


Love is a Gift

by JackedofSpades



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Finger Sucking, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Hair Pulling, M/M, Minor Angst, Nipple Licking, Oral Sex, Puns & Word Play, Riding, Romance, Secret Admirer, Slow Build, Smut, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, alcohol is prevalent throughout the fic but is not a factor in consent, light rope bondage, mutual consent, snarky flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackedofSpades/pseuds/JackedofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a cold, rainy night on the Storm Coast, Bull anonymously leaves a blanket for Dorian as an apology after they have an argument. The gesture wasn’t meant to be much, but as time goes on, Bull finds himself using his Ben-Hassrath abilities to leave more anonymous gifts for Dorian. As their relationship genuinely develops without Dorian being aware of who is sending the gifts, Bull both covers his involvement and offers his help to Dorian find out who the mystery suitor is. Dorian slowly considers the possibility of Bull being the suitor, but fights his own feelings and doubts too much to confront him about it outright. Eventually, the suitor is revealed and Dorian has to decide if he wants to risk vulnerability and the unknown to have a relationship with Bull.</p><p>Written for the 2015 Adoribull Minibang!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by my partner artists:
> 
> Art by AniDragon from [Chapter 3](http://anidragon.tumblr.com/post/129276129702/my-first-art-entry-for-the-adoribullmb-on-tumblr) and from (the very beginning of) [Chapter 10](http://anidragon.tumblr.com/post/129276173607/my-second-art-entry-for-the-adoribullmb-on)
> 
> Art by Seji from [Chapter 9](http://glitterkelp.tumblr.com/post/129322151231)

 

 

            Wind and rain pelted against the collar of Dorian's coat with an intensity that made him doubt he would ever be dry again. He hated the Storm Coast. It wasn't just the fact that the rain never seemed to let up, ruining his finery and hair, but the foreignness of the place – and the cold.

            Reluctantly, he'd followed the Inquisitor through the twisting and treacherous pass south of their base camp. At the time, a rocky mountain pass seemed a better alternative to trudging through the wet sand and mud of the coastline for requisition materials. As he slipped on the slick rocks, Dorian quickly realized that the beach might have been preferable. Maker, he was not cut out for this sort of adventuring. He was better suited to dungeon crawls or the flat, rolling plains of Orlais. Honestly any place with a roof or that was warm.

            “Oh, falling boulders!” He exclaimed automatically when they saw the signpost on the path before them. “Wonderful, just what we needed. I was feeling a bit too cozy drenched in salt spray and rain with the faint sound of a dragon in the distance.”

            The Iron Bull was with them, and gave a soft chuckle as Dorian flung both of his arms into the air at the Inquisitor. She laughed too, but it was to Bull that Dorian turned on his heel and shot a glare towards.

            “Oh come on, Dorian. A little danger? Seems like the sort of thing someone would get excited by. Hell, if that is a dragon we hear, I know I will.”

            It was obscene the way The Bull drew out the word someone. Dorian didn't know quite what it was about the man that got under his skin so effectively, but Bull took every opportunity to mess with him, aware of the effect he had. It was easy to fall back on the trope of the hatred between their peoples - the Tevinter mage versus the Qunari warrior. Outwardly, Dorian believed it, but there was something about how Bull's deep voice vibrated in the mage’s gut that made his comment about danger inviting, rather than repulsive.

            Dorian rolled his eyes at Bull, not trusting himself to make a witty enough retort and pushed on, trailing behind Blackwall who hadn't stopped to indulge the banter. But as he walked, he felt hyper aware of Bull behind him, sure that his gaze lingered on him still. Perhaps he was imagining it.

            Another half mile into the awful climb, and a dilapidated outpost came into view. They saw no one, but approached slowly.

            “There, to the left, hunched behind the barrel – scout.” Bull said suddenly in a low voice, pulling the Inquisitor down to a crouch with him. Dorian and Blackwall crept up next to them, crouching as well. Dorian couldn't see a thing, and wondered how in the Void Bull could make out a scout that far off in the wind and rain, let alone with only one eye.

            “He hasn’t seen us yet. Shoulda' brought an archer with us, take out the scout before the rest.” Blackwall said in a gruff voice.

            “Doesn't matter.” Bull answered in a confident tone, “My guess? The rest of them are holed up in that shack or positioned on the roof. They might see us coming anyway, and if they don't, they still have the advantage of cover. What we need is to even the field. Dorian, can you see that sack leaning against the shed on the right?” Dorian looked at him, unsure what Bull was getting at, but then strained to see into the distance. He didn't see much, the rain muddying his perception, but he thought he could make out something.

            Bull shifted towards him silently, getting as close as to brush shoulders with him. Dorian was about to back away, but Bull pointed into the distance, using his arm as a line of sight. Catching on, Dorian leaned in towards him and looked down the length of Bull's massive forearm. It wasn't much easier to discern, but at least with Bull's direction, Dorian could make out the white blob of what he supposed was a sack.

            “All right. A sack. I see it, in a manner of speaking. What of it?” Dorian said while making a concentrated effort to not look to his left at Bull. He was not more than six inches from him now. It was one thing to see all that muscle from a distance but up close Dorian felt something in him rise that he would rather remain prone, loathe as he was to admit it.

            “Well seeing as you have all that fancy fire magic, I figure you could cause a little distraction.”

            Dorian finally turned to face the Qunari at that, concentrating on his face rather than any lower. Bull had a slack jawed amusement played out on his face even as the rain came down and pelted him in the face.

            “You want me to set a sack on fire from, oh, I don't know, 150 feet away?”

            “What, too hard for you?”

            “In the rain, mind you!”

            “That sack is under the awning. Bone dry I bet.”

            He was goading him now, obviously. Dorian flexed his toes in his boots, the only dry part of his body at this point. He felt his soaked through clothes chafing him causing an uncomfortable, clammy weight. He closed his eyes as if willing away a headache. He didn't even want to think about the condition his hair was in right now.

            And in all this soaking mess, Bull wanted fire.

            Opening his eyes finally, Dorian knit his eyebrows and pursed his lips at The Bull, which only widened Bull's smile at Dorian. Something about that was very unsettling. He shifted his gaze to the Inquisitor, rather than suffer that smug look any longer.

            “Inquisitor, you're a mage as well as I. What do you think of this stupid plan?”

            “I like it.”

            “You seriously think that-”

            “Bull's right, we need a distraction. At the least, some of 'em will come out and give us a better idea what we're dealing with. You're better with pyromancy, so you'll have a better shot stretching your mana that far. And if it all falls to shit, that's what Blackwall and Bull have swords for so...”

            Blackwall shrugged and made a face that seemed to say “that's fair” in response. They were all looking at him expectantly now. Dorian gave one last sigh before nodding his consent.

            “Each of you owes me a drink if this actually works.”

            Bull gave a small laugh at that and clasped Dorian on the shoulder reassuringly before finally turning away. What was stranger than the contact was the feeling of Bull's right horn grazing the top of his head, just barely rifling through his damp hair. It had a bizarre intimacy to it that caused a sudden bloom of warmth to course through Dorian’s chest.

 

 

 

            To his continued surprise, Dorian had managed to set the sack on fire. They'd drawn out some of the bandits, revealing not only how many they were up against, but that they had mabari warhounds to contend with as well. Having that extra information and distraction, the four of them had been able to flank the disorganized and unprepared group.

            Inside, they discovered the remains of several Inquisition scouts. Interestingly as well, the Inquisitor had found a note detailing how to create an amulet that would allow them to waltz into the Blades of Hessarian's main camp unharmed. Bull had wanted to push on, simply continuing their rampant charge into the self-proclaimed protectors of Andraste. Luckily, the Inquisitor had enough good sense to at least return to camp to consider her options. For Dorian, it only meant more time in the cold and rain.

            They had doubled back to base camp only to pack up and advance to a new site farther south along the coast. Night was beginning to fall and any tactical decisions would have to wait until the morning.

            The fire at camp that night crackled and spit at least six feet into the air and yet, Dorian was still as wet and cold as he had been hours ago. The rain had let up as the sun fell from the sky, but the damp pervaded the land and foliage of the place eternally.

            They’d each been given a blanket once camp was made, and Dorian had rushed into his tent as soon as it was up in hopes of escaping the rain. He’d sat in the tent for a few hours as he tried to distract himself with a book, but as night came the cold became unbearable. Throwing back on his damp clothes, he decided to try his luck at warming up near the fire, leaving his dry blanket safe in the tent.

            “How do you people live here, honestly?” Dorian said dramatically as he took a seat next to the Inquisitor.

            “Well, for one, I don't live here. I’m from the Free Marches and I don’t have a problem with this place anyway. Your whining falls on deaf, pointy ears.” Lavellan teased as she passed Dorian a plate of baked potatoes and venison. 

            “Oh so you like the freezing, nearly impassable mountains and the rain-drenched coasts?”

            “Better than my clan, yeah.”

            Dorian was only vaguely aware that the Inquisitor was one of the few Dalish who actively detested her clan. She loved the Dalish as an idea, not as a people. It was a mindset he was all too familiar with, but was reluctant to admit.

            “Yes well, I much prefer Minrathous where we have proper roads and stone buildings; none of this sloshing around in the wilderness business. When it’s hot we have cold runes and fountains and when it’s cold a simple cloak will do the trick. You see, in Tevinter we have warm winters and hot summers, and quiet a significant amount more buildings without holes in their roofs.”

            “Hot enough to really get that smell of shit in the streets wafting from the refugee camps and outer slums, if I remember right,” Bull interjected suddenly from his spot on a log next to the Inquisitor, “or did you not frequent those parts of Minrathous, Altus?”

            Dorian felt a twinge of betrayal and a little guilt at the quip. Bull looked sufficiently agitated. The two of them weren’t friends, but in the two months or so since they’d met, they’d fallen into a somewhat comfortable existence. And the comment had heat behind it that hadn’t been present in their teasing before. To Dorian’s surprise, he was hurt. He was used to being the black sheep, brushing off insinuations about his homeland and his intent to betray the Inquisitor. He could handle that. They didn’t know Tevinter.

            Bull knew.

            Bull knew of blood and magic on the battlefield and how often they mixed in the Imperium. He knew how their peoples’ war cut through the jungle in Seheron like a poisoned blade. And he knew that the Imperium used as much blood in their rituals as the Qunari spilled on the field.

            Dorian had realized this and more in the few seconds when their gazes met across the fire. He hadn't considered how his whining would take on different meaning to Bull. He felt foolish, feeling the weight of his privilege thrown back in his face. It was a feeling he hated, but for a reason he was trying to deny, he didn't want Bull to think ill of him.

            Dorian let a moment of silence pass and felt several pairs of eyes fall on him. He took a measured sip of his flask before looking up, meeting Bull’s gaze evenly this time.

            “I don’t defend my country’s every action, I simply miss my home. The very same one, you’ll remember, which I chose the Inquisition over.” Dorian rose, and gestured politely to the group with a rehearsed grace and plaster smile, “If you’ll excuse me.”

            Dorian found his way back to their makeshift kitchen, dumping his simple metal plate into the pile and refilled his water-skin. He moved mechanically, mind blank, as he cleaned himself up and made his way to the small trench at the edge of camp to empty his bladder before bed. He didn’t feel cold as he made the walk back to his tent to settle in for the night. He didn’t feel much of anything.

            So it was a surprise to him to find a second blanket folded neatly on top of where he’d left his in a pile. He poked his head back out of the tent, looking for anyone possibly walking away, but saw nothing. He turned back and shook the thing out, finding nothing especially alarming about it. It seemed the only logical conclusion was that someone had left it for him intentionally.

            Dorian wrapped both blankets around himself as he settled into sleep feeling much warmer. As much as he fussed and whined, someone had still cared enough for his comfort; it was something Dorian was not accustomed to.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

            They had spent only a single day more in the Storm Coast. The Inquisitor had opted for the amulet, walking into the Blades of Hessarian’s camp as she if she owned the place, and walked out one single-combat match later actually doing so. With the Blades on the Inquisition’s side, they had left the area under their watch until further notice.

            It had taken them a little more than a week to make it down and around Lake Calenhad and back to Redcliffe. Half way through, a part of their small caravan had split off to return to Skyhold and was replaced by a fresh supply cart and a new guard battalion. Bull had been considering heading back himself to check on the Chargers, but they had sent a letter the day of the exchange detailing a successful away mission and were still in transit back. It didn’t hurt that Dorian had been determined to stay on with the group as well.

            He didn’t feel bad, per se, that he had made the comment about the Imperium on their last night on the Storm Coast. Dorian didn’t know shit about what the ‘vints did to his people, much less to his own. Perhaps one day they’d sit down and talk about it, but he’d made it personal and came on too strong for that to happen any time soon.

            Shit, maybe he had felt a little bad. He’d expected Dorian to fly off the handle at him, listing off point after point about how brutal the Qunari were, about the grandeur of the Imperium. The fact that Dorian had taken it personal, that he’d given all but a tacit apology and excused himself for the night spoke more about what Dorian was aware of more than what he blissfully ignored. It was something, at least.

            So when Bull saw Dorian walk not to his tent, but to the privy, he knew he had enough time to slip into his tent to leave his blanket for the mage. He didn’t want to make it a big deal, but in his mind, Bull could call it even for his slip up at dinner. And he really did look cold shivering in all that airy, wet silk. The small linen blanket barely covered him anyway. Any of the excuses he came up with were all good reasons to leave the man a gift rather than consider the possibility that he might actually like him a little.

            It took them yet another three days after the supply exchange to make it to Redcliffe. Bull still hadn’t brought up their campfire discussion. Nobody had been particularly talkative on the journey, and Dorian hadn’t spoken to him more than was necessary. He knew Dorian didn’t suspect Bull had left the blanket, so he didn’t think much of his lack of chattiness. Even when the Inquisitor had asked them pick up extra supplies, Dorian still seemed listless and uneasy in his presence. Bull decided to mend the bridge as they walked through the Redcliffe market.

            “We didn’t have such a good time here last visit, huh?” Bull ventured, trying to sound sincere.

            “It’s something I’d rather like to forget, yes.” Dorian answered without looking up from perusing an apothecary stall’s potions.

            The wall was back up in full force then. Bull decided to play to the man’s ego instead.

            “Fair enough. Still, can’t imagine the shit we’d be in now if it weren’t for you. Not only did you warn our fair Inquisitor, you managed to bring us back some unbelievable intelligence from the fucking future,” he paused a moment to give a small smile to Dorian who was now giving him his full attention. “Just saying, if you really were an evil magister, you wouldn’t have done what you did. That, or you’re a better spy than I am and that’s just plain bullshit.”

            Dorian was smirking at him now, his whole demeanor changed.

            “No, I’m pretty sure you are a terrible spy. When I joined the Inquisition I didn’t flat out say ‘oh by the way, I’m a spy. Here’s the proof and all that’ and go on like nothing had happened.”

            And like that it was done; the air was cleared between them. Something about being back in Dorian’s good graces made Bull’s stomach feel light. It was strange, but not unwelcome. He had missed their teasing in the last two weeks. He had missed Dorian.

            “Listen, that’s some mind game shit, doing the whole double or triple agent thing.” Bull followed Dorian as he leisurely walked on to the next stall, a book seller. Dorian lit up at the sight of new reading material and Bull couldn’t help but notice which books he lingered on longer.

            “Oh yes, do share more confidential Qunari spy techniques with me, sounds positively illuminating.” Dorian fired back a little too quickly in a mock bored tone.

            Was that amusement creeping into the corner of the mage’s mouth? He was usually so controlled and yet, he seemed to be having trouble keeping that aloof superiority he prized so much. And if Bull wasn’t mistaken, Dorian was making an awful effort to avoid eye contact. All tells that could point to a few things, sure, but perhaps…

            Bull gambled, pushing himself just a hair too far into the mage’s personal space.

            Dorian froze. It was just for a moment but his eyes focused up and forward, away from the book and Bull. And he didn’t step away to re-secure the space.

            Interesting.

            “You tell me some ‘vint secrets and we could have a nice little chat. Shit, I’ll even throw in some Orlesian intel while I’m at it.”

            Dorian let out a short breath at that, a laugh that did not fully form. Bull went to pick up a book in front of him called A Study of the Male Drake: A Loyal Partner and Sometimes Snack. He thumbed through it, keeping his eye off of Dorian to appear casual, and because the book had a really sweet dragon embellished on the cover.

            “Tevinter is positively brimming with secrets,” Dorian said haughtily, finally turning to face Bull who was pretending to read a passage on dragon egg incubation. “Though I can't imagine you'd be interested in where the best place to buy damask and satin is or who throws the best summer soirees. I assume you'd be more interested in the boring stuff, like who does the most blood magic or which of our city walls is most crumbly and prime for besieging.”

            Bull had to give a chuckle at that. The 'vint loved twisting words to make them into sharp little quips or witty jokes. Completely ridiculous, but charming.

            Turning a few pages of the book in his hand idly, Bull turned back to the mage. “You know actually, I'd be more interested in hearing some of your secrets. I'm sure you've got some deep, hidden gems in that pretty little head of yours.”

            Dorian gave him a smirk and an eyebrow quirk but didn’t take the bait. Bull pushed on, “I’m sure you’ve done something embarrassing, or have a weakness, some hidden desire maybe?” He gave Dorian an over-the-top smile, trying for smug and flirty, the lie of it big enough to hide some of its truth.

            Something turned over behind Dorian's eyes; something sad and rarely revealed. Anyone could easily miss it, with how quick Dorian was to conceal it. Bulls face dropped as he watched Dorian's expression sour and quickly realized he’d laid it on too thick.

            “Are you always such a charmer, Bull?” Dorian asked sarcastically as he placed the large green book he had been holding back on to the merchant's table before storming off in the direction of their camp.

            Bull watched him go, not keen on causing another rift between them only minutes after they'd patched the last one. This was more typical of their encounters, and he knew Dorian wasn't truly upset with him. Still, something about the way Dorian reacted made Bull feel as if he'd accidentally hit a nerve. He'd try to be more careful next time.

            He turned back to the merchant, who looked as if he had desperately tried to avoid eavesdropping on the conversation and had failed. Bull smiled at the man as he trembled just a little, meeting his gaze with a curt nod. Bull picked up the dragon book and the book Dorian had thumbed through the most.

            “Don't look so surprised. I can read.”

            The merchant nodded apologetically as he accepted Bull's coin.

 

 

 

            If he hadn't been so exhausted, Dorian would have run to his room to gleefully flop into his feather bed for the first time in over a month. By the time he made it to his door, however, he amended his plan in favor of a bath. He had one of the few rooms in Skyhold that had its own washroom, and he had wasted no time ordering a tub when he'd joined the Inquisition. Being a mage, he had the luxury of being able to fill and heat it unassisted, a luxury he had sorely missed on the road.

            After soaking for an hour in the tub, he felt rejuvenated and considered heading down to the tavern. Dorian toweled off and went to his wardrobe to dress. As he slipped into one of his more luxurious outfits (He had been in the same dirty armor and cloak for a month, damn it!), he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

            He turned to his right as he finished closing the last clasp on his red velvet tunic to find a rather large, green tome placed neatly on the end of his bed. Instinctively, Dorian looked to the door and checked the latch. It was locked, just as he remembered. He went to the window next, but it was shuttered just as he'd left it.

            He went back to the book then, finally recognizing it. It was a book of Tevinter poetry, the same one he had been perusing in Redcliffe days ago. Funny thing was, he'd gone back to the merchant the day of their departure to purchase it to find it had been sold. He hadn't wanted to buy it in front of Bull, both from embarrassment and due to the little spat they had had there the day before. But now the book was here, deliberately purchased and delivered to his room anonymously.

            Dorian scrunched up his nose and pursed his lips as he wondered whether this was charming or creepy. He'd received gifts before, obviously; quite a lot of gifts actually now that he thought about it. In the Imperium, such things were often used to garner favor or as political messages. More often than not in Dorian's case, they were used to discreetly infer a desire for a sexual encounter, as that was the only real avenue for one such as him. But even so, the messenger usually revealed themselves by the second or third gift, otherwise what was the point?

            “It's only one book,” he thought to himself as he continued his dressing, fishing out some of his favorite earrings from a drawer. “Sure it's a poetry book, so I suppose it could be romantic, but it certainly doesn't scream anything too forward.”

            Dorian mulled it over further, muttering absently as he twisted his mustache into its proper place with wax and applied kohl to his eyes. Looking back in the mirror, he finally felt his old self again and deemed himself fit to be seen.

            He grabbed his coin purse, checked his hair in the mirror once more, and then headed out the door for the tavern. Perhaps someone would approach him about it if he was out and a little bit drunk. He figured there was no sense trying to seek out who had sent it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't you just see Bull accidentally getting distracted by a shiny dragon on a book? I can.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

            The tavern was full to the brim that night. Nearly everyone who had been in the field for the past month was more than ready for a pint or two. Even the Inquisitor was there, though that wasn't too unusual. She was sitting with the Chargers, already into her second glass it seemed. She waved him over, and Dorian obliged, happy to have her as a drinking companion.

            “Dorian! You're pretty again!” she yelled, half laughing. Her legs were slung over a chair she had been using as a foot rest. She lazily pulled back one leg, waiting for Dorian to push off the other so that he could sit.

            “Inquisitor really, you insult me. I'm always pretty. Today I'm simply flawless again.”

            Dorian made a show of tilting his profile in a pose, getting a laugh from the group. He hadn't spent much time with the Chargers, and figured they saw him as some fussy Tevinter fop thanks to whatever Bull might have told them. It was much easier to play into a role than against it.

            “So, I do believe you owe me a drink, Inquisitor.”

            “What! What did I do this time?”

            “Do you or do you not remember how I so gallantly saved us from those Hessarian bandits back on the Storm Coast?”

            “What are you, Varric? You lit a sack on fire.”

            “I'm not fussy. I'll just have the best thing they have.”

            The Inquisitor laughed and shook her head, but got up and made her way towards the bar. Dorian sat smugly and satisfied with himself, only to realize a second later he was now alone with the Chargers.

            “So... what are you all, like Bull's misfit children then?” Dorian said to none of them in particular.

            “More like we're all his doting parents, but yeah, close enough.” Krem answered. He was the only one of them who's name Dorian had known before tonight. By the time the Inquisitor had made it back, with a whole round of drinks for the lot of them, Dorian had learned each of their names, and learned quickly that puns and insults went over fantastically with the Chargers.

            “Here you go, Teryna. One ale, on me.”

            “Ale? Do you know me?”

            “I know you secretly like Ferelden beer. Just chug it and shush.”

            All the Chargers looked at him expectantly, wondering if he'd actually abide the order. Dorian wasn't usually the type for such antics, but knowing the group thought he wouldn't, he decided to give them a show.

            “All right. Last to finish buys next round. On three, chug!”

            After another hour, and another round provided begrudgingly by Skinner, the group was just getting comfortably drunk. Everyone was getting on surprisingly well, and Dorian finally let his curiosity get the better of him.

            He got up during at the beginning of an arm wrestling match and made his way over to Krem. Casually as he could, he leaned in to be heard over the raucous display in front of them.

            “So, I notice Bull isn't around tonight. Any reason?”

            Krem didn't answer, instead taking a long draw from his tankard. He was trying to fight back a smile and succeeded long enough for Dorian to fidget impatiently. He laughed then, as Dorian gave him a petulant frown before finally answering.

            “Worried he's off with another mage, hmm?”

            “I-what? Oh please, you seriously you think I would have anything to do with him?”

            Krem gave him an impressive dead pan look that Dorian couldn't compete with even if he was sober.

            “Okay, think what you like; he owes me a drink.” Dorian felt his face go hot as he downed the last of his ale, convincing himself it was from the alcohol and not from embarrassment. Krem laughed softly and nudged Dorian in the arm with his elbow.

            “Word of advice, one 'vint to another? Never let a Qunari sneak up on you.”

            Dorian was about to protest when a large hand fell roughly on his shoulder, a booming laugh accompanying it. Dorian craned his head around and found himself at eye level with Bull's leather shoulder harness. Nestled comfortably on Bull's opposite shoulder was an entire cask of what could only be more alcohol.

            Dorian gaped at him, his usual tact slowed by his intoxication. Bull gave him a ridiculous wink before taking his hand back to lift the cask above his head, yelling some outlandish chant that the Charger's answered just as loudly. For one second, Dorian was worried the Bull's horns were going to puncture the damned thing.

            “Picked this up for you guys as a present for a job well done on the away mission. Gotta say, I had a good laugh hearing about Dalish setting that inn on fire though.”

            “It was an accident, Chief. You know how itchy her bow finger gets on a good job.” Krem said, sidling up to Bull.

            “You paid the inn keep for the damages, right?” Bull asked as he handed off the barrel to Krem who took it with as much ease as if it was empty.

            “That and a little extra, for the trouble.”

            “Good man.”

            Dorian watched as Krem set the barrel on a table and Grim brought him a tap to screw into it. The cask readied, the Chargers filled their cups anew.

            “Shit, chief. This is some good stuff. What is it?” Rocky pipped up, his cup already half drained.

            “Vint-9 Rowan's Rose.”

            “Rowan's Rose? How on earth did you get a whole cask of it?” Dorian said suddenly, eager to finally have something that wasn't the equivalent of piss water, much as he had acquired a taste for the Ferelden variety.

            “I bought it.” Bull said simply.

            Dorian rolled his eyes at Bull before moving to get his own cup. Bull stopped him before he could get two steps in.

            “Ah nope. That's for my Chargers only, Dorian.” Bull said with a grin.

            Dorian gave him a nasty look, waiting for the 'just kidding' before he could continue on.

            “I'm serious.”

            “Thanks, Bull!” Lavellan said as she walked by more than a little unsteady, two tankards full of Rowan's Rose in each of her hands.

            “No problem, Boss.” Bull said happily as Dorian crossed his arms haughtily beside him.

            “The Inquisitor is a Charger now, hmm?”

            “Nah, but she is a red head. How could I deny her? Also she pays me, so there's that.”

            Dorian ran his tongue across his top row of teeth, ending the motion with an annoyed smack.

            “Mhm. Well I see where your priorities lie.”

            “No you don't.”

            Dorian thought now was right about the time he should walk off in a huff. He turned from Bull but hesitated on whether he should head for the door or the bar.

            “I do owe you a drink, Dorian. It's just not Vint-9.”

            Dorian stood, his back still to Bull, considering his options. He decided free booze was always worth another shot.

            “Oh do regale me with the story of how- oh, Maker! Is that a bottle of Sun Blonde Vint-1?”

            Bull was, in fact, holding up such a bottle. He had stashed it in a leather pouch tied to his belt, intending to spring it on the mage at some point. He got the reaction he had wanted.

            Dorian took the bottle lovingly, a sparkle in his eye that was as likely caused by happiness as it was by his previous intoxication.

            Wasting no time, Dorian began trying to open the bottle. After a few seconds of struggle, he handed it back to Bull with a look of resignation. He was taken aback by the look Bull gave him, full of easy affection and amusement. It threw him off completely, and he could do little more than watch as Bull took the bottle and opened it with a knife.

            “Thank you,” was all Dorian could really think to say as Bull handed the bottle back to him. He meant his thanks for opening the bottle, but somehow it had come out more loaded than that. He wanted to know why Bull had gone through the trouble of getting him such a luxury, but wasn't about to ask. Instead he followed Bull back to the table with the Chargers and sat beside him, trying not to think about how it had pleased him when their fingers brushed in the handling of the bottle.

            The night was still relatively young, and it continued just as pleasantly as it started. It was the first time Dorian had felt truly included in the group. It was a nice change, and for once, he let his guard drop. He laughed easily with the others, listened with genuine interest as the Chargers recounted tales of previous jobs, and told of how they came to join the mercenary group in the first place.

            “Look,” Bull pointed out to Dorian suddenly, gesturing to the Inquisitor coming through the tavern door. She was laughing absurdly with a chagrined Solas pulled along at the wrist behind her. She seemed to be egging on Maryden to play something upbeat, and for a moment the whole tavern was split between watching and finding something to bang on to add to the ruckus. Dorian even watched as a dwarf he’d never seen before rolled out a drum from the bar’s storeroom.

            “Holy shit I think she’s trying to get him to dance with her.” Bull said holding his hand up to his mouth behind a smile.

            “Maker, is he sober? I’ve never even seen Solas in the tavern. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him outside of his little studio. She can’t possibly convince him to-“

            “He’ll do it for her.”

            Dorian scoffed and looked to Bull to see him with a much softer but still amused expression. Lavellan was clapping along now, getting plenty around her to join while Solas stood just out of reach holding his hands out trying to politely decline. She only laughed more at that, throwing her mountain of messy red hair around her as she began to dance.

            “I don’t understand, when I see them in the library all they ever do is fight. When we’re in the field she just throws jab after jab at him. And now she thinks getting him down to the tavern is somehow going to get him to lighten up?” Dorian said leaning on the arm of his chair as he twisted his mustache absently.

            “Sounds familiar.” Bull said under his breath.

            “What?”

            “Nothing.”

            The Inquisitor was dancing around Solas now, tugging on his sleeve here and there, flipping his strange jawbone necklace up with the flick of her wrist and laughing more. By now, many others in the tavern had joined her, haphazardly dancing to their own steps, the beat of the music the only thing similar among them.

            “He’s not going to do it.”

            “Wait for it.”

            Dorian huffed, unsure why he was suddenly uncomfortable with the situation. He was better friends with the Inquisitor than anyone else. He would see her happy and found her equal parts rash and dependable. Even so, something about the display seemed too raw, too risky for his tastes.

            Lavellan passed by their table a moment later, blowing a ridiculous kiss to Dorian and Bull. Dorian hesitated to return it and instead settled on a no less genuine smile and wave. He had exchanged such flirty gestures with her before, but tonight he felt he would rather not draw attention a relationship between them, no matter how platonic it was in reality. He stole a quick look at Bull after that.

            “I suppose what I don’t understand is that they couldn’t be more opposite,” Dorian then said, his discomfort leading to rambling, “It’s just, as far as elves go at least, they simply have nothing in common. She talks to me about him, you know. How stubborn he is about her researching Dalish histories, which honestly is no big surprise, but I swear I overheard them once in the rotunda in the most awkward conversation about some trip they took in the Fade. Anyone would think they hated each other. Anyway, I’m just saying if she actually is interested in him she’s going about it all wrong.”

            Bull listened, rolling his eyes only once when Dorian wasn’t looking.

            “Didn’t know you two were pals. What would you do then, if you were trying to get his attention?”

            “If I was trying to get that man’s attention I would certainly have bigger problems,” Dorian said speaking with his hands. He stopped for a moment, careful to not let too much slip about himself. Thinking of how to answer, his mind wandered back to the book that was lying on his bed. “…But say I was trying to get someone actually interesting and attractive to notice me? Hmm, I suppose I’d send them a nice gift.”

            “Like this?” Bull asked as he lifted the now half empty bottle of Sun Blonde into the air.

            “No! No, not like that you ridiculous man.” Dorian fired out quickly, turning his head back to the Inquisitor to keep Bull from seeing the embarrassment on his face. His mind quickly recalled the night he had come home to precisely such a gift from a magister’s son who had been particularly eager to get Dorian drunk whenever he was sure to see him.

            As he watched the dancers, the thought of Bull being the one who had sent the book flashed through his mind and for a second; he wanted to believe it. He didn’t even try to deny it now, thoughts of Bull had crossed his mind far too often for him to ignore it anymore. But when he turned back to Bull, his composure was back. Yet he allowed himself to entertain the thought, no matter how unlikely it was.

            “She should send him some dusty old artifact or perhaps a better tunic, Maker knows he could use one. Ah, no you know what would be perfect?” Dorian looked Bull right in the eye then, a bit brazen thanks to the drink. “A book. A book would be perfect for a stuffy little apostate like Solas.” Dorian realized he’d had to draw a parallel between Solas and himself for the bait to fit, but he was willing to take the hit to his pride for this.

            “A book?”

            “Yes- I don’t know. Just something I knew he’d actually want.”

            “Hmm.”

            Bull had a doubtful look on his face, but said no more. He’d probably never even considered such a thing, Dorian thought, and his chest sank just a little.

            “Well I guess we don’t know what they’re really thinking, do we?” Bull said, looking back over as the Inquisitor stopped her dancing and returned to Solas’s side to whisper something into his ear.

            “No, I suppose we don’t. I still think she’s daft if she’s actually interested in him. They’re a terrible match.”

            “Maybe they are. Maybe she only lashes out at him in front of others for appearances. I’m sure being Inquisitor is shit for relationships. Maybe they’ve got some big rivalry thing and it gets them going in bed. But in my experience, people only act that way when they’ve got something to hide or are afraid of how they feel.”

            Dorian looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, letting the words resonate a bit too personally. Bull returned the look, concern that the parallel was too obvious was plain on his face. Perhaps it was the drink or the new found comradery he had found that night, but Dorian felt no need for a witty retort, his silence wordless agreement.

            The music started up anew, taking on a strange beat that was not easily recognizable. Someone was playing a lyre, which augmented the primal beating of drum into something that felt alive. The Inquisitor returned to her dancing, but this time it was measured and planned. Her fire was still there, but channeled into precision. Solas followed suit this time, matching her steps as the two of them swayed and pivoted in perfect unison.

            Bull put his arm around Dorian, patting it roughly as he took in the scene as well.

            “Told you.”

            “How did you know?” Dorian asked Bull as he turned away from the elves, focusing again on the man seated beside him. Dorian eyed Bull’s hand on his shoulder, the one he left bare. His touch was warm and he didn’t protest when Bull left his arm draped across his chair, fingers still grazing his skin.

            “Ben-Hassrath.” Bull pointed to his head with his other hand, as if that somehow clarified.

            “Really, so that’s it then? You can just read someone as easily as a book?”

            “Sometimes, yeah. Other times, I just take the time to get to know them.”

            “I see.” Dorian’s eyes lingered on the bottle of Sun Blonde Vint-1. He couldn’t remember a single instance when he had told Bull it was his favorite. He wouldn’t have been able to simply pick it up near Skyhold either. The only conclusion he could come to was that Bull had taken the time to plan such a delivery. It was so unbelievably thoughtful and unexpected, Dorian simply wasn’t sure what to make of it.

            “You gonna finish this? Cuz if not…” Bull asked noticing Dorian looking at the bottle.

            “Yes of course! Give it here.” Dorian said hastily as he leaned over, grabbing for the bottle. Bull laughed at his possessiveness, watching as the mage topped off his glass. There was still a good third of it left.

            As Dorian sipped, he considered a moment, deciding on whether or not he shouldn’t be a bit more openly grateful. “Finish your drink,” he said back to Bull trying to keep a casual tone. Bull raised an eyebrow, but otherwise downed the tankard without protest.

            Dorian made a show of leaning in to take the glass, trying as subtly as possible to move closer to the man. He took the bottle and filled Bull’s glass for him.

            “I just realized how embarrassing it would be for me to drink an entire bottle by myself in public, and a gift too. Have some, would you? It’s such an elegant drink, it really much be shared.” He looked to Bull who had that slack grin on his face, obviously seeing right through Dorian’s words to his meaning. Dorian felt his stomach do a little flip at being found out, but found he didn’t care.

            “Sure thing, ‘vint. You know, if you need anything else from me, I’m available all night.” Bull said in that deep voice that went right through Dorian.

            “Hush,” he answered as turned his back on Bull once again. This time, however, instead of walking off he simply leaned back into the other man’s side. Bull was smart enough not to say anything, but couldn’t help but to pull the mage in a bit more closely. If sending Dorian a book had this effect on him, Bull thought to himself, he’d have to keep sending him gifts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone tell Dorian he projects his own life/problems onto everyone else he sees lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun with puns/jokes in this chapter. B)
> 
> My Inquisitor is such a dirty lil elf brat I love her but honestly, she has no business surviving Halamshiral.

 

 

            “Has anyone seen my hair product?” Dorian asked somewhat frantically as he entered the dining hall of the chateau the Inquisitor and her personal retinue had been allowed to occupy the day before and after the Winter Ball. In normal circumstances, dining would have been formal with servants waiting on the group constantly. But when they arrived, the Inquisitor had swiftly done away with such arrangements, abhorring the idea of having her own people wait on her like a shem. She’d insisted on paying the servants wages for the days they were to lodge, and ordered them to take the next three days to visit family or spend it however they’d pleased.

            Without anyone to feed them or prepare their linens, the group had mostly fended for themselves. Blackwall had taken it upon himself to prepare a simple but filling meal for the group, to the relief of them all. Sera had been the best behaved anyone had ever seen her, even going so far as to help the Inquisitor herself clean the dishes after the meal.

            “Hair product? Whazzat supposed to mean? It doesn’t just look like that on its own?” Sera asked as she played with leftover soap bubbles she had carted up to the hall from the kitchen.

            “No it most certainly does not. It requires constant maintenance and a rather numerous supply of luxury goods.”

            “Oh, bugger off. Just spit in your hands and push it down. It works for me, yeah?”

            Dorian’s eyes grew wide and he turned away from the elf before she tried to demonstrate. He made a beeline for more civilized company in the drawing room, opting to sit beside Vivienne and the commander who were seated on two plush sofas some distance away.

            “Dorian, you know if I had need of styling product, I would gladly lend you my own. Are you quite sure you triple checked your traveling bag, my dear?” Vivienne said sympathetically when her conversation with Cullen about the Ferelden circle came to a polite stopping point.

            “Yes of course, and the back-up bag!”

            “I see. Perhaps it got mixed in with your perfumes and oils?”

            “I thought so too but I keep them separate in their own purse.” Dorian looked towards Cullen, who was politely trying not to look out of his element. Dorian lingered on his golden curls for a moment.

           “Commander, you have surprisingly excellent hair. You wouldn’t happen to have enough product to spare, would you?” Dorian asked hopefully, leaning over to put a hand on the blond man’s thigh.

            “I er- what?” Cullen said taken aback as he stared at Dorian’s ringed hand on his knee.

            “Maker, don’t tell me He blessed you with naturally good looks? You can’t possibly roll out of bed that way.”

            “What do you mean by ‘surprisingly’?”

            “My dear, he’s a lost cause. Perhaps you can root around the chateau for some spare materials. Though I suppose that is a rather desperate measure.”

            Dorian sighed in resignation and pulled back, melting dramatically into the plush purple cushions of the sofa. The sound of heavy footfalls came from behind the little group. Dorian removed his hand from his face just in time to see The Iron Bull take a seat next to Vivienne.

            “What, you come all the way to Orlais and you leave your bottles of glitter and sunshine under your sink back in Skyhold?”

           “Manners, dear.”

            “Oh, right. Sorry ma’am.” Bull said sheepishly, the swagger of his comment completely deflated. He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up straighter and keeping his feet firmly placed on the ground, his hands folded in his lap. Dorian found it ridiculous, but oddly endearing. An outsider might mistake Bull’s compliance as subservience, an absurd idea to anyone who actually knew Bull. No, it was respect, made all the more interesting and satisfying due to the blindingly obvious differences between the two.

            “That’s quite all right. You actually interrupted at an excellent time. We haven’t finished discussing which of the waistcoats you’ll be wearing tomorrow night.”

            “Aw shit, ma’am. I thought we decided I didn’t have to wear one if I wore the other pants.”

            “Tsk. You owe it to yourself and your company to never wear those disastrous scraps of canvas again.”

            “You really think a waistcoat will make a shred of difference? I’m gonna stick out like a Qunari at an Orlesian ball… ma’am.”

            Dorian and Cullen laughed at that, politely and behind their hands lest they draw the attention of Madame de Fer to themselves.

            “This is no longer up for discussion. You’ll come to my room at 4 o’clock sharp. Bring both waistcoats with you.”

            “Yes ma’am…”

            The group sat in silence for a moment, everyone obviously tense except for Vivienne who then returned easily to her conversation about the Circles with the commander. Dorian couldn’t believe his hair product was missing. The Winter Ball was tomorrow evening and he had neither time nor servants to fetch for more. He’d been so sure he’d packed everything… his perfumes, his soaps, his hair brush, his mustache comb, his…

            “Kaffas! I bet I did leave it under the sink! How could I possibly have forgotten it? Void, I’m going to be the only Tevinter at an Orlesian Ball and my hair is going to look as bad as Cole’s.”

            “Manners, Dorian.” Bull said with mock curtness and a crooked smile.

            Dorian stood dramatically, shooing at Bull with both hands as he got up to leave. Vivienne turned to give Bull an approving nod, but the only thing Bull saw was the ghost of a smile that crept on to Dorian’s face before he turned away.  

 

 

 

            The following morning was a frenzied affair. With no servants to help them to dress, several in the group were frantically trying to enlist the help of the others. Vivienne alone seemed successful, having entrusted Solas with fetching wood for the fireplace, Cassandra to see to the carriages and of course having Blackwall see to their breakfast.

            Around 4:30PM, Bull exited Madame de Fer's quarters with the winning waistcoat. He had entered fully set on going bare-chested, but as usual Vivienne had found a way to win him to her side. She had offered him two ridiculously sharp and ornate golden caps for his horns. He was fairly certain they were from her own collection, a headdress with a set with interchangeable metal tips ranging from fashionable to practical.

            “We'll not be allowed any weapons inside, as you know. Save perhaps, what we can tastefully slip in.”

            He had agreed to wear an emerald green vest trimmed in gold in exchange for them. All in all, it had been a favorable concession. He had been trying to work out how to get a sword or at least a dagger into the Ball, but this, he thought, would do well enough in an emergency.

            He still had an hour or so before he even really needed to ready himself, the only preparation being to put on the vest. He considered stopping by to fuss with Dorian, but reconsidered, worried he’d stir him up too early and miss out on better chances later in the evening. Instead he settled on a bit of fresh air, and made his way to the small yet luxurious gardens in the back of the chateau.

            Unsurprisingly, the gardens were empty; everyone being engulfed in their preparations. Bull wandered aimlessly, his eye eventually catching on a large fountain of water behind a hedge wall. He walked towards it and as he made his way around the hedges, happened upon a large, round pool. A golden lion sat in the middle, water pouring out of its mouth, flanked by two cranes whose heads met to spew a single jet of water into the air.

            Sitting on the edge of the fountain, was Cole. Bull had gotten used to the spirit appearing randomly, and approached him without hesitation. As he got closer, he noticed Cole was looking intently into the water, his trademark floppy hat in his lap.

            “Hey kid, almost didn’t recognize you without your hat.” Bull said jokingly, taking a seat a little ways off from Cole.

            “Is that a good thing?” Cole asked, concern coloring his voice.

            “Er, it isn’t really good or bad. Just an observation.”

            “Everyone is so nervous, a thousand thoughts throng through them, they think they don’t look good enough. ‘The seam has come undone, we’ll have to fix it – only perfection tonight.’ ‘No, the west corridor is too risky, we must be prepared for anything.’ ‘At least it isn’t a dress…’ All of them thinking at once. It’s too loud. Outside is better.”

            “Yeah, the ball is tonight. I expect most of them are losing their shit right about now, either getting their outfits perfect or trying to come up with a plan to keep the Inquisitor from killing the Empress herself.”

            Cole fidgeted, his legs crossed, he leaned back over the water, staring avidly at his own reflection. He parted his hair, admired it, and then put it back.

            “I’m all right.”

            “What?”

            “I asked Dorian if I was handsome. He’s handsome, or at least he says he is, so I thought he would know if I was. He said I was all right. I know I’m all right. What does that have to do with being handsome?”

            Bull laughed at that, and Cole looked up to him, confused.

            “Sorry, kid. I’m not laughing at you, I just don’t know if taking beauty advice from Dorian is the best idea. He thinks so highly of himself; I think his view of anyone else is permanently warped.”

            “He said I should rethink my hat, so I thought about it all day. I still like it, though.” Cole looked down into his lap and wrung his hands on the hat’s brim. Bull gave him a sympathetic frown but couldn’t think of what he could possibly say to console the spirit. For once, he wanted Cole to read his thoughts to save him the trouble of answering.

            “You think he’s handsome. You think about him a lot, but not like before. Well, sometimes like before. It’s different now, because you like him. That’s why you keep leaving him gifts.”

            “I left him one book, Cole. It’s not that big a deal.”

            “You’re lying. You gave him the blanket, the bottle. You’re planning another too, but you’re unsure. He’ll like it, but he wants to know who it is. He’s not sure, reminds him of home, but this isn’t the same. He’s not sure, not sure of anything anymore. He thinks of you, when he wonders.”

            “Wait, do you think he knows it’s me?” Bull asked, suddenly concerned and bewildered by the panic it caused in his chest.

            “No. He tries to put it out of his mind, but it sneaks up on him when he sees you. ‘Could it be? Preposterous.’ But nobody else comes to mind.”

            Bull sat in silence for a moment. He’d been careful, when he slipped into the mage’s room to leave the book. Easy for him, being Ben-Hassrath. Still, he wondered. Did he give anything away? Would Dorian want the gifts still, if he knew? Would Dorian want…?

            “Here. I don’t think these will help, he can have them back.” Cole lifted his hat off of his lap and back on to his head revealing two bottles nestled between his crossed legs. He picked them up and handed them to Bull.

            “So that’s where all his fancy hair crap went.”

            “I didn’t mean to keep it for so long. I didn’t know what to do with them.”

            “It’s all right kid, I’ll get them back to him before he throws a real tantrum.” Bull took the bottles from Cole with one hand and patted him on the head with the other. “There’s nothing wrong with liking your hat. If that’s what makes you happy, then wear it.” Cole looked at him, a weary smile on his face. “And you know what? Tonight you’ll see so many fancy hats you won’t even know what to do with yourself. Hell, I bet if you made your way up to Vivienne’s room she might even have a hat you could wear.”

            Cole’s eyes lit up at that, but he looked hesitant at the mention of Vivienne’s name.

            “She doesn’t like me, she still thinks I’m a demon.”

            “All right well, listen. You tell her I sent you up their just for a hat. And knock on the door, don’t just appear or you’ll never get it. Wait for her to let you in. You tell her that all you’re going to do is wear it to try and blend in at the Ball, and that you won’t cause trouble. If she still denies you, you tell her if she gives you the hat, I’ll owe her a favor. That should be enough.”

            “But what if she makes you do something bad?”

            “Then I won’t do it, and you’ll have still gotten the hat.”

            Cole looked thoughtful for a moment, then happy. He stood up and beamed at the Bull.

            “Thank you. You helped.”

 

 

 

            Dorian watched from the upper level of the grand ball room as the newly made Emperor Gaspard addressed the court. The Inquisitor stood behind him, a shock of a sight, covered thigh to breast in blood with dirt on her bare feet. Her moss green gown ripped and tattered, her dazzling smile was completely at odds with her condition.

            Vivienne, Cullen, and Bull stood around him, watching the scene as well with varying degrees of approval. They had not been a part of the night’s battles directly, had not seen the red path the Inquisitor had cut through the palace that night. They had been running interference in the ball room, collecting information or serving as distraction so that the Inquisitor, Solas, Sera, and Varric could slip in and out of battles without losing too much face. The Bull had pointed out the stupidity of going in without a warrior to balance the pack, but the Inquisitor had insisted on stealth and the over-confidence of her own abilities to see them through the night. Bull hadn’t been pleased to be left out of the killing.

            “My my, what a night,” Dorian said to his companions at the end of Gaspard’s speech. “Honestly, I’m surprised the Inquisitor let Florianne sink her dagger into Celene. I could have sworn she said she wanted to do it herself.”

            “Do not make light of this Dorian. This may have ended with the Orlesian army backing the Inquisition, but at what price?” Cullen said sternly, his eyes never leaving the small figure of Briala who stood far off from the balcony.

            “I’m sorry, did I miss the part where I was supposed to cast my vote for whose throat we should have slit tonight? Silly me.” Dorian replied easily, his arms resting on the banister casually.

            Vivienne stood eyeing the scene as well, her face an emotionless mask that belied the anger in her tone as she spoke, “She was rash. I had no love for Celene, but surely she would have been the better choice over Gaspard being manipulated by her elven ex-lover. This will complicate things needlessly.”

            “Hmm yes, it would have been much better to gallantly save Celene, reveal the flaws of both parties and romantically reunite the two women as joint rulers of the empire. We could have given out free puppies with little ribbons around their neck afterwards.”

            Vivienne gave him a cold look before answering, “You can jest now, but not but months ago the elves of Halamshiral were in open rebellion, and the city burned. Thousands of elves died in the slums. Now their leader is in control. What do you suppose they will do to the nobles who made the order to destroy them? We need unity and order if we are to defeat Corypheus, not elves seeking vengeance for a 700 year old wound.”

            “I agree. Why don’t I just go down there and ask Briala to politely cut the shit? I’m sure she’ll put the Inquisition before her people.”

            Vivienne pursed her lips darkly, “Why don’t you, indeed? Perhaps you could take a little day trip back home and ask the same of the Venatori?”

            She turned on her heel and left. Cullen, unsure what to make of the exchange, lingered a moment before giving a polite excuse to check in with his fellow advisors. Dorian rolled his eyes.

            “I wouldn’t mess with Madame Vivienne, Dorian.” Bull said as Dorian turned his attention to him when the others left.

            “No, you certainly wouldn’t, would you?” Dorian said raising an eyebrow mischievously.

            “Hey. You don’t know what it’s like, okay. When a woman like that tells you what to do, you think three times before ignoring the order.”

            “She isn’t a Tamassran.”

            “Can you prove that?”

            “Hmm… No, I suppose I can’t.”

            A scream sounded from behind them suddenly, and the two of them turned, ready for a blade to be hurled in their direction. Instead, they were met with the sight of the Inquisitor half running, half limping down the hall with her dress hiked up, laughing obscenely. The surrounding nobles were aghast, unsure what to make of the woman who had just risked her life for their Emperor and aided in ending their Empire’s civil war.

            Josephine appeared around a corner, in hot pursuit, or at least as quickly as she could politely manage through the crowd. Halfway to them, the Inquisitor stopped to pick up an entire tray of deviled eggs, eating one in the most lopsided display of running they had ever seen.

            “Holy shit.” Bull said, a wide grin on his face.

            She stopped when she got to the pair and held the plate out, offering it to them.

            “Can I offer you a nice egg in this trying time, Messeres?” she said with a mock Orlesian accent.

            Dorian and Bull looked at each other before each taking an egg from the platter.

            “Inquisitor! Inquisitor, please wait a moment! I don’t believe this is the best way to leave things!” Josephine called in as polite a yell as could be managed.

            “Diplomatic immunity!” the elf shot behind her shoulder.

            “For the last time, Inquisitor, that doesn’t actually mean anything. Please just stop!”

            The Inquisitor bowed to Dorian and Bull, threw the plate over her head and stumbled her way out of the main doors and into the foyer. Josephine followed, stopping to curtsy and apologize to them. Dorian looked to Bull again who was laughing raucously.

            “Alright, so maybe Vivienne has a point.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole is so fun to write. He's just so precious. Also I know Cullen would probably have hair gel at least but I couldn't help but poke fun at him. He's too cute and a lil into Dorian. Wrong fic, Commander. :V


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No party like a dalish-elf-dancing-in-the-moonlight after party, am I right?

 

 

            The Inquisition had made a rather hasty exit from the Winter Palace after the Inquistor’s interesting interpretation of Orlesian social decorum. They had made it back to the chateau without incident, at least. Unsurprisingly, the Inquisitor had managed to gain a small following of Orlesian elves along the way, jubilant at the night’s turn of events. Not content to be put to bed, they decided a celebration was in order, and most of the party was so relieved to be away from the ball that they joined in despite their reservations. 

            The Inquisitor opened up the drawing room’s huge double doors to the garden and the party spilled out, several of the elves striking up a make-shift band in the moonlight. Dorian kept to the inside landing, looking out from the double doors, watching with equal parts confusion and amusement at the scene in front of him.

            “Funny how quickly things can change, isn’t it?” The Iron Bull appeared from behind, a glass of wine in each of his hands. He offered one to Dorian when he turned, who took it with a smile.

            “Yes, but is it for the better?”

            “Not my job to care.”

            “Well it will certainly concern you when we fight Corypheus.”

            “That’s for later. Why don’t we just forget about that, at least for tonight?” Bull gave him an appraising look. Dorian considered him for a moment, but then smiled in agreement. He couldn’t help but take in the sight of Bull in finery, smirking at the fact that even in his waistcoat, half of his chest was bare; not that Dorian minded.

            “You look rather dashing tonight in that waistcoat and, what are those, horn tips? Never thought I’d see the day you put a shirt on.” Dorian said sarcastically, hoping the tone hid the sincerity of his words.

            “Disappointed, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll be back to flexing and showing off my chest soon enough.” Bull lifted one arm and flexed, to which Dorian scoffed and sheepishly looked back towards the Inquisitor who was currently leaping over a bonfire.

            “They liked my hat.”

            Appearing out of thin air, Cole smiled broadly at The Iron Bull, a huge satin hat on his head, the brim folded up in the front with a huge yellow plume of a feather sticking out of it.

            Dorian jumped at the sight of him.

            “Venhedis! Cole I nearly spilt my drink!”

            “Sorry. But they liked my hat, and I found this feather. It’s lovely.” Cole said, flipping the little plume with a small laugh.

            “Is that a Chevalier’s feather? Cole how could you have- you know what never mind. I don’t want to know.” Dorian said, opting to down the rest of his wine instead of asking questions.

            “I’m happy for you kid. Glad you had a good time.” Bull said like a proud parent. He flipped the feather himself for good measure.

            “I did. I’m going to go show everyone now. Goodbye.” Cole disappeared in a flash, but his presence reminded Bull about how he had slipped into Dorian’s room earlier in the day, leaving the bottles of gel and wax in plain view for Dorian to find. Remembering what Cole had told him, Bull decided to see if he couldn’t get Dorian talking about his gifts.

            “So, I see your hair looks just as fluffed and primped as usual tonight. You try the spit technique like Sera said?”  
            Dorian made his way back inside, calling over his shoulder as he answered, refilling his glass from one of the many bottles on the table behind them. “No of course not. The truth is actually much stranger. If you’d believe it, they were sitting on my vanity when I returned to my room around five o’clock or so.”

            He sauntered back to Bull, bottle in hand, and refilled his glass as well. He hesitated a moment before deciding to leave the bottle on the railing of the landing.

            “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” he continued after taking a sip of his wine, “I must have had them the whole time and misplaced them. But I didn’t! They were sitting square on my vanity in plain sight. There is no way I could have missed them. Someone took them and then brought them back. They had to have.”

            Bull let him ramble, considering the other man’s words, trying to see how much Dorian suspected before replying. As far as he could tell, Dorian was completely unaware. Bull tried a likely angle.

            “You get people breaking into your room and taking your shit often?” Bull said sarcastically.

            “No, just the one time. That I know of, at least.”

            Bull said nothing as he sipped his wine. He let the silence hang, and he could almost see Dorian considering if the same person who left the book had left his hair product, and whether or not he should tell Bull about the whole thing. 

            Dorian’s face cleared and after a rather large gulp of wine, he made his decision.

            “I will say though, I have had rather the opposite problem back in Skyhold.”

            “Oh? You breaking into other people’s rooms now? You don’t have to, I told you my door is always open.”

            “No, Maker! Do you ever let up? No, I- well a few weeks ago, I came back to my room after our return from Redcliffe. I took a bath and when I returned to my bed, someone had left a book on it for me. The very same book, mind you, I had tried to buy before we left but was sold out.”

            Dorian looked around to see if anyone else was listening before motioning for them to move a ways from the door to talk more privately. Picking up the bottle of wine off of the banister, Bull happy to slink off alone with the mage.

            “So you think someone left it as some sort of token, and that they’ll leave something else?” Bull questioned with mock ignorance after Dorian had explained his reasoning.

            “Well at first I thought it was just some one-off gesture, it was just a book. But when I saw my hair products returned so opportunely, I did question it.”

            “But that would mean whoever was leaving this shit for you was one of us in the chateau. Seems more likely it’s someone back at Skyhold, I mean, giving back something you own doesn’t sound like a gift to me.”

            Bull was leading him as much as he could away from him for now. Cole was right, he had another gift planned, and now that he had a better understanding of how Dorian viewed the situation, he could better tailor his message.

            “Well, feel free to reveal that it was you all along and save me the trouble.” Dorian said jokingly, but a flash of hopefulness appeared on his face all the same.

            “You got me, I confess.” Bull lied with the truth; his favorite way to lie.

            “Yes, I suspected as much.” Dorian rolled his eyes, but Bull noticed how his shoulders fell just so, and the amusement left his voice. It was enough to risk a little more, he thought.

            “Well look, okay. Say there is some guy planning on leaving you gifts anonymously. He’s bound to leave some sort of note or do something risky eventually. What if I come spend the night you know, to like, stakeout the place for you. If he comes by, I’ll catch him and we can interrogate him right there!”

            Dorian looked at him with a tint of fear in his eyes as The Bull finished. It was unexpected, and for a moment, Bull worried it was directed at him; that his interest was something unwanted. He wouldn’t be surprised if Dorian was afraid of him, but he had thought that was some of his appeal to the other man.

            “What? Was that too forward? I was just kidding you know.”

            “Yes… no, that part I know. I just- when did I say it was a man who left the book? I don’t believe I did.”

            Shit. Bull had slipped up on such a simple thing as a pronoun. This was the sort of elementary level thing you learned before your horns even grew in. He knew from the way Dorian spoke, the words he chose when talking about himself, and how he reacted to him that Dorian was attracted to men. It was just an obvious thing to Bull. He’d completely overlooked the fact that Dorian had never made any such statement.

            “Alright, you got me there. Look, I don’t know who this person is that’s leaving you gifts, but – and don’t take this the wrong way – I just sort of assumed it would have had to be a guy.”

            “And why is that?” Dorian asked with strain in his voice, the grip on his glass tightening ever so slightly.

            Bull considered a moment, taking his time to drain his glass to buy time. Dorian crossed his arms and gave him a ‘Well?’ look. Bull held out his finger as he finished the last of it. He decided in this case, honesty might be the best policy.

            “Okay, so maybe I assumed because I sort of pegged you for liking men. Maybe you like more than one gender, I mean, I do. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my policy is pretty much ‘if they’re hot, I’m in’. I dunno, I guess, I just- I just assumed by the way you react to me messing with you. Sometimes you seem into it, I don’t know.”

            Bull scratched the back of his head, obviously nervous he’d fucked up in some sort of irreversible way. He was repeating words and tripping over them, something Bull just didn’t do.

            Dorian looked at him skeptically, but didn’t run. For a few seconds, nothing but the sound of elvhen music passed between them. Dorian wasn’t sure what to do, but he had never seen The Iron Bull like this before. For once, he was sure Bull was being honest. He responded similarly.

            “I see. Well, I can’t always tell when you’re being serious, if you ever are being serious. I don’t talk to people about this, it’s sort of a sore point for me, but I suppose sooner or later someone was bound to pick up on my lack of interest in female company.”

            He felt wildly uncomfortable, vulnerable even, admitting this to Bull in a dark, shaded corner of Orlais. It seemed fitting actually, revealing his secret in a nation that traded them like currency. And yet, the vulnerability in front of Bull was strangely intoxicating. He wanted to tell him more, tell him that sometimes he thought of acting on Bull’s suggestions. Tell him how even now, being alone with the other man excited him. He’d never even let himself fully indulge in the idea, but now Bull was here and he wasn’t moving away, but closer…

            “Look, I talk a lot of shit, especially with the Chargers around, but I’d never make fun of this. I wouldn’t do that to anyone, least of all you.”

            The Iron Bull was close now, and Dorian had to look up to meet his eye. A shock went through his chest like a surge of mana at the expression on Bull’s face. It was meaningful, but with shades of desire at the surface. It made Dorian feel weak, and that only made him want to feel it more.

            “…Least of all me?”

            Bull didn’t know why he’d said it, but somehow it was still true. That Dorian held a place above other people was fact. What that meant in Bull’s world was yet to be understood. He knew he wanted Dorian, and for now, that would have to be enough.

            “Yeah. You know what I mean.”

            “No, what do you mean, The Iron Bull?”

            Dorian let out Bull’s full name slowly, lingering on each word like a challenge. That was something Bull understood loud and clear. He took Dorian’s empty glass from his hand and put the two aside. Dorian looked at him questioningly, but had no time to protest as Bull swept him up with one arm, carrying him and pressing him roughly into the chateau’s outer wall. Their chests flush with each other, Bull leered over him with easy confidence.

            “Bull, wait I don’t-“

            “Tell me to stop and I will.”

            Dorian’s words came out quick and labored, rebuked easily by that deep voice that reverberated in the mage’s chest. It was fantastic and terrifying and Dorian could barely process what was happening. Bull asked again.

            “Do you want me to stop, Dorian? Tell me, and I will.”

            Bull pressed into him with a little more force and tilted the mage’s chin up, Bull’s gaze inescapable and full of want. Dorian pulled against his grasp, testing it. His whole body flushed with excitement when Bull kept his grip iron tight, not letting him look away.

            “Last chance. Just say stop, and I won’t lay even a finger on you.”

            Dorian realized what was happening, and something about Bull knowing, playing into it, and giving him exactly what he wanted made Dorian feel relieved. Relieved! All that power pressed against him, working out exactly what he wanted and delivering with such tact. He didn’t have to pretend.

            “No.” Dorian breathed out, barely audible.

            Bull leaned in, his lips ghosting over Dorian’s ear, never letting his grip on his chin or around his waist loosen. He whispered into Dorian’s ear, teasingly.

            “What was that?”

            The warm breath on his skin, so close, made him crazed. Dorian bucked involuntarily, and was only slightly mortified by it.

            “I’m not going to say it.”

            “Why not?”

            Bull shifted his grip on the other man, pulling him up against him. Dorian’s toes barely touched the ground, his weight almost entirely supported by Bull and the wall. Bull was back to looking at him, that slack-jaw smile not the least bit insufferable now.

            “Because…”

            “Because why, Dorian?”

            Dorian closed his eyes, unable to look down with his chin held in place. Should he really let this happen? He could still bow out, the option was there. He knew Bull would let him go, no questions asked. And that’s when Dorian realized it. He trusted The Iron Bull. He knew he was safe with him, that this, whatever this was, could be stopped at any time. The realization staggered him.

Dorian opened his eyes and met the other man’s gaze as the truth spilled out of his mouth.

            “Because I don’t want you to stop.”

            Dorian would have closed the distance between them to kiss the other man, but he couldn’t with Bull holding him in place. Instead he had to endure the Bull staring him down as a huge grin spread across his face, not sparing Dorian from a second of his gaze. It made Dorian hot and frayed his thoughts. It was like nothing he’d felt before.

            “All right. Well, why don’t you tell me what you do want, then?”

            “Bull…”

            “I’m listening.”

            Dorian felt his heart pounding in his chest, and knew Bull felt it too with how close they were. He was going to have to say it to get what he wanted. He was free to command Bull off of him, probably free to command Bull to do a lot of things, and yet he was completely and totally at the mercy of the other man, the Qunari, pressed up against him. How had he managed to avoid this until now?

            “Kiss me.”

            Bull’s mouth was on him as fast as the words came out, no pretense or teasing behind the act. It had been long enough and both of them knew. As Bull’s tongue parted Dorian’s lips, he released the mage’s chin and hoisted him up into his arms, hands gripping his ass, still pressed almost painfully against the wall.

            His arms now free, Dorian allowed them to wrap around the other man’s neck, one hand going up behind his head, unbelievably, trying to pull Bull in closer. Bull chuckled into Dorian’s mouth, and then pulled back to break the kiss. Dorian, however, had other ideas. He leaned forward, chasing Bull’s mouth until he found it again. Bull allowed it for a bit, pleased to finally have Dorian’s interest, before pulling the mage’s chin back to end it. With that, Dorian seemed to come to his senses, embarrassment flooding his face.

            “Hey now, no reason to be embarrassed. I was enjoying it too.”

            “Bull this is ridiculous. Anyone could see us out here, if they haven’t already.”

            “Relax. You think I didn’t think of that? We’re fine.”

            Dorian squirmed anyway, and Bull let him back on his feet. He held him in place still, arms tightly wrapped around his torso. Bull leaned back in kiss his neck, but Dorian’s energy felt different.

            “Bull, no, we shouldn’t.”

            It wasn’t a clear order, but Dorian’s voice was off now and something had shifted between them. Bull decided to lean on the side of caution. He backed off, leaving the mage free to move. He knew it was the right call when Dorian stayed to explain.

            “I’m not upset with you. I just- I don’t know how to explain right now and I’m drunk and this is just not the time and –“

            “It’s okay, Dorian.”

            “Is it?”

            “Yeah.”

            “All right.”

            Dorian awkwardly took the time to fix his collar and collect himself. Bull watched with a fond smile on his face. Dorian felt the shape of his hair, failing to get an idea of if it was all right. He looked to Bull.

            “Is it-?”

            “It looks fine, Dorian.”

            “Are you sure? What about the side? You roughed it up some.”

            “You look as breathtaking as usual, ‘vint.”

            “Ah. All right.”

            It was strangely normal, the exchange between them. The comment on his appearance was as much as jest as it was a sincere compliment. Absurdly, it made Dorian blush.

            “Right - well, best act like this didn’t happen for now.”

            “Sure. I know the drill.”

            “I appreciate it.”

            “Just so we’re clear though, we’re gonna act like this didn’t happen, but uh, for the record, it did happen, right?”

            Dorian looked at him earnestly, understanding what Bull was asking. ‘This isn’t over, is it?’ It was so jarring, how Bull could go from such a dominating, inescapable presence to being unsure. Dorian didn’t have to consider before answering.

            “Yes. It happened.”

            Bull watched as Dorian headed back to the festivities, careful to give him a decent head start before going back himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify - Dorian is intoxicated here but he says he's drunk more than he really is. He is totally into it but he likes his excuses yep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "Last Resort of Good Men" chapter. Dorian has some angst about his Dad, freaks out a bit.

 

           

            Dorian slammed the door of his room as his emotions poured out, unfettered now that he was finally back in the safety of his own room, in the safety of the Inquisition. He paced quickly to his washroom, bracing the sides of the basin, feeling sick. He’d kept most of it in, the disgust and anxiety, on the trip back from Redcliffe. Now that he was back, the hurt welled to the surface. The sting of tears crept down his cheek in the cold air. 

            His father had tricked him; no surprise there, really. But even with the warning from the Inquisitor, he somehow hadn’t expected it. He had spent every day since he had left his father’s estate in Qarinus trying not to think of the man, trying not to think about the day when he would have to face him again. But he had gotten comfortable in the South, had even found some happiness, if not at least some peace. The Inquisition had begun to feel like a home to him, a false security that was ripped apart at the sight of his father in the empty tavern.

            His anger had come to a head, no longer tempered by doubt or respect. He had cut his father with his words, feeling as much relief as fresh agony. The Inquisitor had remained by his side, her steadfast friendship his support through it all. She said not a word of opinion in the presence of his father, the first time he had ever seen her hold her tongue. Her only concern was for Dorian’s wellbeing. She had his back as she followed him out of the tavern, his father still calling out to him as she shut the door with a lethal glare.

            Dorian splashed water onto his face in an attempt to stay grounded in the present. He had gone, said what needed to be said, and returned in one piece. He would not dwell on this, would not let his father control him even now. Distraction, as always, was what he needed. On the trip back, the Inquisitor had offered to sup with him. After her support, he would be remiss to decline.

            After cleaning himself up and reapplying kohl to his eyes, Dorian returned to his bedroom to grab a cloak; the chill of Skyhold being unbearable in winter. He went to the drawer of his bureau where he kept his heavier winter wear and opened it to find a package settled neatly on his cloak. A small piece of paper was folded and tucked under the white string that held the bundle together. Despite his pain, the sight of it lifted Dorian's spirits.

           Forgetting himself, he scooped up the package and sat with it on his bed. The thing was weighted strangely. Something that felt like cloth surrounded something heavy and clunky. It was tempting to open it right away, but Dorian went for the note first, eager to finally get a confession or at least some sort of clue as to the identity of his mystery suitor. In a small but neatly lettered script, a short letter was written:

 

            _Dorian,_

_Heard you were leaving Skyhold for a few days, so I slipped these in for you as a surprise for when you returned. I might have heard it wasn't going to be a fun trip, so I figured spoiling you with more gifts could soften whatever bullshit called you away. I bet you're wondering who I am and how I know all of this, but for my sake assume I'm just well connected and not a creep._

_Hope you like what I've been sending. I can't imagine you wouldn't. If either isn't to your taste, you can leave it at the foot of your bed tonight and I'll take it back. If you like, leave me a note in return. It can be a little game between us, if you're into that. I'd be interested to see what you think about all this._

            Dorian flipped the note over, frustration on his face. “That's it?” he thought when he found no signature or other hints. He was used to receiving a few coy words and a meeting place that hinted at some sordid rendezvous. But this was not the Imperium and there was a certain levity to the words that clashed with his assumptions. And they knew before he left that he was leaving? Perhaps they were someone close to Leliana and her ravens; maybe a scout or spy who knew how to coax out information? That seemed a fair bit overkill for a simple courting, but he'd seen stranger. He folded the note again and slipped it into one of his many pockets.

            He pulled at the white string, noting the thing was wrapped plainly in rough paper. It was certainly not the sort of presentation used to court an Altus. Even so, Dorian's fingers itched to expose his gift and he pulled open the paper hastily.

            Inside revealed two beautiful, yet contradictory gifts. The first was an impossibly soft, wool scarf dyed skillfully to transition from a deep black to a warm gray. At the ends, little golden toggles adorned it. It was simple in design, but fine in material. Dorian wrapped it around his neck, the thick wool already trapping heat to keep him cozy.

            The other gift had been wrapped in the scarf, and now Dorian could see why. A silverite staff blade had been swathed in it, lest its sharp edges poke through the packaging. Unlike the simplicity of the scarf, the blade was elegantly crafted into the triangular shape of a viper's head. The tongue lashed out, to make a point to pierce, while the ridge of the nose and eyes formed two separate edges for a sideways slash. The eyes themselves were serpentstone.

            Dorian grinned down at it, pleased with the symbolism; it was a fitting gift for a Tevinter mage. Moreover, he noted with interest that whoever had gifted him it had to have known he'd recently snapped his old blade in the hide of a bogfisher a few days before he'd left for Redcliffe. He had made a quick replacement of it with a less efficient blade but no matter how loudly he'd complained about the happening, he doubted it would qualify as common knowledge around Skyhold.

            He was getting a better picture of his mystery man. It most certainly was a man. Perhaps it was unfair to judge, but based on the handwriting and the diction of the letter it seemed more likely. And Void, imagine how he'd have to break the heart of some poor, besotted girl if it wasn't. No, it was surely a man. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume such a thing, at least not here in the South. Perhaps Bull wasn't the only one who had seen right through his easy flirting with the Inquisitor.

            And then unbidden, the thought of Bull's rough hands on him flooded his thoughts. His lips had been warm and he recalled vividly how they had grazed his ear, the rough stubble of Bull's cheek scratching past his smooth one. He'd enjoyed every second and it still vexed him how he'd given in so easily, so willingly. He'd been a little drunk at the time surely, but nowhere near enough to justify the voracity with which he had kissed the man. And then there was that whole power play Bull had executed so perfectly. That was an entirely different matter.

            Dorian pushed the thoughts of Bull from his mind, lest they run away with him; he had no idea who had sent him the gifts and he wouldn't work himself up over nothing. Instead, he placed the staff blade neatly on his dresser and made for his quill and parchment at his small desk. He sat poised on the edge of his chair, unsure of what to write as a reply. He decided to keep it unfairly short. Hopefully it would be seen as playful and not petulant.

 

            _Whoever you are,_

_Your packaging skills leave much to be desired. Have you heard of a box? Try it some time. Despite that failing, the gifts are lovely. You've somehow managed to find me trinkets that are both fine and thoughtful. You have an eye for quality. And yes, I am most certainly referring to myself._

_For now, you have my interest._

            Dorian signed it with a flourish, folded the paper, and left it at the foot of his bed before heading off only a little late for dinner with the Inquisitor.

 

 

 

            Lavellan had greeted him hesitantly when he’d arrived with a dazzling smile. She had been expecting him much worse for wear. In truth, he should have been. The feelings of disgust and worry had not gone away, but the immediacy of it had. Stumbling upon secret gifts and writing flirtatious letters to another man seemed an astute response to the meeting with his father. In fact, it was exactly the sort of thing he had hoped to find in exchange for his father's legacy.

            He tried to reassure Lavellan that his mood was genuine, but she worried over him regardless and he loved her for it. He had never been so fond of a woman before, and the protective veil the Inquisition had cast around him seemed to restore itself as they shared a hearty stew and loaf of bread. She pressed him for answers here and there, but he shook them off, promising to have the discussion once he had time to think. That seemed to mollify her.

He hadn't told her the whole truth of the issue, hadn't had the stomach to explain the blood ritual his father had planned for him. He would tell her in time, she had earned that, but for now he was content to thank her earnestly and to retreat into the safety of a friend.

            He had stayed with her for some time after they had finished their meal. The Inquisitor was researching the rite of tranquility, apparently encouraged after her journey to the Western Approach. They had had a rousing discussion about the theoretical implications of self-possession as means of curing the condition. She seemed to think it could be undone with the aid of the anchor and the help of the Aequitarian mage, Rhys. They could have gone on about it for hours, but were uncharacteristically interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

            Lavellan got up with a confused look on her face to answer the door. She returned a moment later followed by Solas, an apologetic look on her face.

            The flush on Lavellan's cheeks was telling and Dorian knew this was an unexpected visit. Dorian gave her a knowing look and some throwaway excuse to take his leave. He winked at her as he left, a friendly gesture implying he would demand all the details the next day.

            He took special care to walk through the main hall, his scarf around his neck still, in an attempt to be as visible as possible. He even made a show of walking through the courtyard, feigning a need for some fresh air before doubling back to the main hold and up to his room. It was hard not to search the faces of those he passed for shock or recognition.

 

 

 

            Dorian returned to his room feeling worlds lighter than he had earlier in the day. He opened his door, hoping to see the note he had left had been taken. The note was gone, but now a wooden duck sat in its place.

            Panic flared in the mage's chest at the sight. It was remarkably similar to a toy he had as a child - eerily similar. The only difference being that his had wheels and a string to pull it. His father had given it to him on his 6th birthday. He had always treasured it, even when he'd outgrown it he'd kept it tucked away as a bookend in his study.

He had thrown it into a mirror the night before he'd fled Qarinus.

            Why was it here? The note was gone, but there was no way his suitor had left it. He couldn't have known. No one could have known, except his father.

            A sick dread seeped into Dorian's stomach at the thought, and doubt ate away his previous good mood. What if the gifts and note had been another ruse orchestrated by his father? Lord Halward could have paid a man to do this, to bait him with gifts and sweet words only to lure him to a final meeting where he'd be carted back to Tevinter. It seemed absurd, but after their confrontation in Redcliffe, he could not dismiss the possibility.

            He left the duck on his bed and sharply turned around to leave. He walked aimlessly, pulling his scarf tight and burying his nose in it. He needed to get away, and felt panic creeping into his breathing as he found himself on the parapets overlooking the tavern. He stopped for a moment, trying to decide whether he should inform someone. If there was a spy in Skyhold, should he go to Leliana? Perhaps he should go back to the Inquisitor. She would surely take the matter seriously. But what if he was wrong, he did not want to worry her, nor appear weak and paranoid. And perhaps foolishly, he would not wish to disturb her precious little time with Solas, ever the romantic even in the face of danger.

            He took a deep breath to steady his hand before pulling the letter out of his pocket, searching it for any sign of foul play. They knew he had left, and they knew he would see his father. That much was obvious, but something was still off. If it was an agent acting for his father, why had it not been the exact duck from his childhood? It was a detail to easily supplied to miss, and it felt like the sort of predicament one could find themselves in in the Fade; a spirit reconstructing your memories in fragments, just enough for you to realize the error and wake.

Dorian took in his surroundings, looking for the familiar shine and gloss reality takes when one is in the Fade. He knew he wasn't there, but somehow he hoped it was true. He'd like very much for this all to be a dream. Instead, he saw only the beginnings of snowfall and watched as flakes gently drifted from the sky in serene juxtaposition to Dorian’s emotions. He pulled his scarf to his face and breathed in a familiar and comforting scent that he could not quite place.

            “He tried to melt a snowflake because he liked waterfalls. Swallowing bile and pride as he sees his son defend himself.”

            Cole stood before him, skin pale and eyes wide. Dorian took in the sight of him as he let the meaning of the spirit's words wash over him. His father.

            “Well at least if you're here I know I'm not in the Fade. You'd be shrieking about it rather than prying into my memories.”

            Cole looked at him sadly, and placed a hand on Dorian's shoulder.

            “You want it to stop hurting, but if it stops, what will you feel then?”

            “Anger? Outrage? Betrayal? Take your pick.”

            “Those are just other words for hurt. You still love him, and that makes it harder. I want to help.”

            Dorian pulled away from his grasp, feeling his personal space violated. He hadn't come out in the cold to be probed and pestered. He'd come out here for... what had he come out here for?

            “You ran then, and you're running now. It goes with you, though.”

            Dorian sucked his lip at that. It was true.

            “Yes, you've got me there and any other time I'd be just as uncomfortable with this conversation, but right now I have the additional discomfort of figuring out if father dearest is still after me. I think he's got someone here watching me.”

            “Everyone watches you, Dorian. You’re handsome.”

            Dorian rolled his eyes at that, despite his fear. He wasn't going to get very far with Cole. He shouldn't even be indulging him right now. With his luck, he'd wake up in the morning with jam spread on his windowsill or a dead rat in his shoe.

            Dorian looked back to Cole, who was staring at him like a child waiting for a candy. Suddenly Dorian understood.

            “Cole, the wooden duck I found on my bed... was that you?”

            “No. I'm not a wooden duck.”

            “I mean did you put it there?”

            “Yes? I couldn't find one with little wheels, though. I'm sorry.”

            Relief flooded Dorian at that. There was no spy then, no agent of his father working to coerce him home. It meant that for now, he was free of that worry. It also meant the letter was real, as well as the man who wrote it. He realized with some concern he’d been equally as distressed about that. 

            “Does everyone think that gifts are the best way to communicate with me, then?” Dorian said, assuming the sarcasm was lost Cole.

            But Cole was looking through him, past him, his eyes hunting and his lips parted. The spirit said nothing as concentration creased his brow. He seemed to be searching, until he found it. His eyes glossed over a little before he began to speak:

            “He likes the gifts. I knew he would. Shit, and he writes like he doesn’t care, but I know he does. Does he know? The bit about an eye for quality, he could have meant it as… No, not enough information; I’ve got to catch him early tomorrow. Want to see him wear the scarf. He’ll wear it, I know he will. He’s so damn pretty.”

            Cole looked at Dorian as if he’d simply commented on the weather, and Dorian regarded him with mouth agape.

            “You know who’s sending my gifts!”

            “Yes. He’s happy.”

            “Well out with it! Who is it?”

            “You don’t know?”

            “Cole, if I knew I wouldn’t be asking the spirit who could read minds, now would I?”

            Cole looked at him as if he were a child trying to decide if he should tell his mother he broke her vase. He fidgeted back and forth, before coming to a decision.

            “It would make you happy if I told you, but you’re happy not knowing too. He doesn’t want you to know yet. It’s better that way.”

            Dorian regarded him with mixed feelings, but didn’t protest. After a few moments, he nodded his acceptance and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder that Cole returned with a small smile before disappearing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't Cole just the best kiddo??


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

            Dorian leaned haughtily against a pillar in the courtyard watching as the Inquisitor tried for the 3rd time that day to best Cullen at chess. He’d long since stopped trying to beat the man himself; cheating did him as much good as flirting when it came to the commander. He’d wondered for a short time if it wasn’t all an act, that Cullen had been leaving him gifts and pretending at disinterest. Dorian dismissed it quickly though after discovering from a few lady recruits that Cullen’s lack of tact in romance was universally known.

            As he stood watching the two, he fiddled absently with the toggles on his scarf. Though Spring had nearly come to Skyhold, he still wore it. He had grown attached to it, for obvious reasons. His hope was that his suitor would be inspired to write him again, the more he saw him wear it. It had been some time since he found another letter on his bed. Playful banter had greeted him in the past weeks, but no new gifts.

            Dorian smiled as Lavellan nibbled her lip, holding on to a piece for a full minute before moving it. Cullen took it hesitantly with a knight and a sympathetic laugh.

            “I’m just shit at this! I’ll never understand it. How do you manage to always win?”

            “Practice. A lot of practice. I used to be terrible. It wasn’t until I spent months working at it with my brother that I gained any measure of skill. You’re too impatient. You can force your way through the board, you have to plan.”

            Dorian piped up at that, always eager to ruffle the commander, “Says the handsome commander who cuts through our foes like a knife through warm butter.”

            Cullen stuttered dismissively and waved him off. Dorian smirked as the Inquisitor grinned as well before returning to mulling over her next move.

            Dorian could only watch for so long before letting his eyes wander across the lawn. He passed over the usual sight of Mother Giselle and her newest converts in favor of the rather attractive scene that was playing out in the Inquisitor’s newly made herb garden.           

            The Iron Bull was bent low over a few of the potted plants scattered near the covered walkway, diligently snipping away. Dorian watched him warmly, wondering what Bull could possibly need from such a meager stock of herbs.

            After a few more minutes, Bull finally seemed convinced he’d collected enough material and made his way back through the courtyard. Dorian caught his eye easily and couldn’t resist throwing a smile and wave Bull’s way. Bull grinned back, and Dorian just barely hid his excitement as Bull changed course towards him.

            Bull approached, holding a rather large bundle of royal elfroot. Dorian gave him a questioning look, eyeing it languidly.

            “Stitches needed some supplies.” Bull supplied simply.

            “And you decided to take that menial task on yourself, hmm?” Dorian asked, an eyebrow raised with doubt.

            “Chargers stick together, all right. The rest were busy.” Bull said, dismissing the conversation and instead pointing to the rather uninteresting chess match before them. “What’s going on over here, because it doesn’t look like chess.”

            The Inquisitor spun around in her chair eyeing him, annoyance plain on her face. Bull moved closer, undeterred by her warning glare as he studied the board. Dorian followed in suit, suddenly extremely interested in the game as well. If Bull noticed how Dorian’s hand moved up to touch the other man’s elbow (in an attempt to get a better vantage point, clearly) he said nothing.

            “Boss, he’s gonna take your queen in two moves, and if he’s any good, your king in five.” Bull said after assessing the board.

            “Hey! No cheating! Off with you; honestly, you’re as bad as Dorian.” Cullen exclaimed, trying uselessly to cover the board from sight with his arm.

            Bull laughed then, pleased to see the Inquisitor’s sour mood lighten at his hints. He stood back then, leaving them to their game, giving the Inquisitor a one-eyed wink before turning back to take his leave. Dorian reluctantly broke their contact as Bull backed away towards his bundle of herbs.

            Put off that Bull hadn’t paid him more attention, Dorian trailed after him as Bull walked off, ignoring the fact that Bull had probably intended for him to follow. They hadn’t spoken of their little tryst at the Winter Ball since it happened. It had been just over a month, and though they spoke casually, once taking the field together even, Dorian had not dared bring it up.

            Dorian caught up quickly, and cleared his throat dramatically.

            “Nice scarf.” Bull said in response, sparing him only a sideways glance and smile as he continued to walk at normal speed.

            “Yes, don’t you think? One of my favorites actually; a gift from one of my many admirers.”

            Bull made a face like he was desperately trying to hold in a laugh, and Dorian frowned at him, smacking him lightly with the end of the scarf.

            “Don’t you dare laugh. I told you before about how I’d gotten gifts. Well, now he’s even leaving me letters, got me this lovely thing and a staff blade.”

            “Well I’m happy for the two of you, really. When’s the handfasting? I’ll be real fuckin’ upset if you don’t let me break a plate or hold the chalice or whatever the hell you humans do during those things.”

            Dorian’s scrunched up his nose at that, but otherwise let the comment slide. He had begun to get used to Bull’s jabs, feeling them much less pointedly after their kiss in Orlais. The kiss he was still avoiding talking about.

            “Yes, well. As much as I would love an event formal enough to force you back into a shirt, I fear it won’t get that far. He seems rather adamant about not revealing himself to me. Strange, really.”

            “Maybe he got bored of you.” Bull said smiling, already raising his hands to block a smack Dorian aimed at him, this time with his hand. Bull caught it easily, pulling Dorian dangerously close only feet away from the infirmary. Dorian lost himself for just a second, relishing the other man’s rich scent; a mix of sweat, blade oil and cooking fire. It was too inviting, but he wouldn’t be lulled into Bull’s grasp in broad daylight. He pushed Bull away, both palms pressed against Bull’s chest.

            “Vishante Kaffas! Don’t you ever bathe?”

            “You like it.”

            Dorian had the sense to look properly offended, though he knew the effect of it was lost. Bull just smirked at him before heading to the door of the infirmary. Dorian watched as Bull made his way inside, dropping off the bundle of royal elfroot before making his way back over to him. Dorian was making a dramatic show of appraising his nails, deliberately ignoring Bull who stood before him expectantly.

            “All right. Out with it. You’re still here so you have something to say. What is it?” Bull finally conceded after a few seconds of silence.

            Dorian considered him for a moment, feeling suddenly foolish. But Bull looked at him earnestly, and Dorian found himself formulating a plan on the fly.

            “Well if you must know, I had actually hoped to ask your assistance in this mystery suitor dilemma of mine.” Bull’s interest piqued at that, and he leaned in to place a hand on Dorian’s back and lead him away from any curious ears.

            “All right, I’m in. What’s the plan?”

            “Well assuming you can actually behave yourself, I think your silly comment about a stakeout might actually not be so far fetched.”

            Dorian had thought it over, in passing. He hadn’t really intended to ask so soon, but it was as good a time as any now that it was out in the open. If Bull managed to uncover anything it would be a measured success, and if not… well he’d have had an evening with Bull.

            “I mean we can try it, sure, but I don’t know how much good it will do us if we don’t know when or where to look.”

            Dorian hadn’t thought that far ahead but now that Bull had agreed, he wanted it to be tonight. That would require something to go on.

            “Well, I just so happen to know he’ll be leaving me something tonight. He left me a note saying to be out of my room after sunset for an hour so he could leave it.”

            Bull looked at him strangely for a moment, but then nodded curtly with a wry smile. It wasn’t the best lie, but it could be true. Dorian had been spending a decent amount of time in his room with his research. Perhaps if he were out tonight it really would draw his suitor. Either way, he wasn’t about to admit he simply wanted an excuse to have Bull alone. 

            “All right. Your room's near Madame Vivienne's balcony, right? Over looking the gardens?”

            Dorian nodded and Bull thought for a moment before coming up with a plan.

            “We gotta position somewhere we can see him but he can't see us. Meet me up on the battlements near the training yard after sundown. We'll take the stairs there and make our way back over from the other side. Probably a decent vantage point to be had behind the guard tower. The parapets should give us enough height and cover. Cullen usually stations guards light on the north side in favor of the main gate, usually newer recruits. Shouldn't be too hard to come up with some bullshit to keep them out of the way.”

            Dorian couldn't help but follow Bull's lips as he spoke. He wasn't stopping himself from thinking about the Qunari anymore, couldn't stop, not after having a taste of him. Before, it had been a simple thing to scoff and turn away from the man; his flirting crude and for anyone. Now he was seeking him out purposefully, _hoping_ for Bull to sling suggestive comments his way. It took him a second or two to break his gaze to realize Bull had stopped speaking, a fact not lost on the Bull judging by the look on his face.

            “Right well, seems those Ben-Hassrath skills of yours won't be going to waste after all. I'll leave at sunset and meet you above the training yard then.”

            Dorian turned to leave quickly, trying to save face. Bull caught him by the arm easily, spinning him back around to face him.

            “Don't come straight from your room to the yard,” he said ignoring Dorian's scowl, “If he knows you're leaving at sunset he might be watching. Don't wanna make your mystery man jealous if he thinks you're off sneaking around with me, right?”

            Dorian's expression softened, “Hmm. That is a fair point.”

            “Go to the library or wherever you usually go off to, wait a couple minutes and then double back around from the main gate. Unless you're trying to make him jealous. If that's the case I've got a way better idea.”

            Dorian rolled his eyes as a force of habit, but the insinuation coupled with the Bull's tight grip on his arm was too delicious to brush off.

            “I bet you do.” He said with in the same drawn out tone he'd reserved for Bull's full name. Dorian watched smugly as Bull’s gaze grew intense, and took a step towards the mage. Dorian stepped back, placing his free hand against Bull's chest, pushing him back. “Still, it'd be a pity to not at least discover the identity of my mystery man. Perhaps you can tell me all about your other idea tonight. See you then.”

            A wicked smiled bloomed under his mustache as Bull released him reluctantly. He felt wild and reckless though it was simply the same sort of flirty throwaway comments he would use on the Inquisitor or Cullen. Adrenaline and a hint of arousal rushed through him as he walked away, keenly aware that no other man inspired such reactions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bull has no idea what the fuck this elfroot is for, it's a total bluff. I imagine he walks into the infirmary, dumps it in a chair while people stare and then walks back out lmao. Anything to have an excuse to see Dorian right?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some info from Dorian's backstory from The World of Thedas Vol 2, so all the places/people Dorian talks about are actually canon. Give it a read it will make you cry.

 

 

            As soon as the sun disappeared behind the Frostbacks, Dorian made for the library. He'd dressed in all black (including his scarf) for their little mission, as much for drama as for concealment. The absurdity of the situation sank in almost immediately, and Dorian blamed it entirely on the high he felt when he got near Bull. Yet instead of calling the thing off and coming to his senses, he sat thumbing through books he'd already read to create an alibi as Bull had instructed.

            He lasted barely ten minutes before he got up and made his way towards Cullen's tower on the opposite side of the hold. It was early enough that he could still cut through. He waltzed in one door and out the other with only a simple 'Evening, Commander' to explain his presence. He'd even managed to make his way through the upper level of the tavern without encountering Cole, though he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. It took him another minute or so before he made his way to the next guard tower. He stopped casually and leaned on the railing that overlooked the training yard. Bull was nowhere in sight.

            “Venhedis. If he honestly expects me to just wait here like a-”

            “Impatient little thing.”

            Dorian turned quickly to find Bull leering over him. Startled, he backed into the railing, bumping his ass on the stone.

            “Maker, how in the Void do you manage to sneak up on me all the time?”

            “You really need me to answer that, or are you just being cute?”

            Dorian aggressively adjusted his collar, a sour smile his only response. Bull backed off, a smug grin on his face as he gestured to Dorian's all black outfit.

            “Man, you really should consider joining the Qun. You're practically Ben-Hassrath in that get-up. Honestly, all black? What the shit were you thinking?”

            “Do you know how impossibly hard it is for me to not draw attention to myself? This is all I could think to do.”

            “You're such a fucking trip. You know that just makes you stand out more, right?”

            Dorian looked down concerned, genuinely unaware that could have even been a possibility. Bull sighed, a slight edge of affection escaping with it as well.

            “All right, whatever. Come on, Altus. Let's go see if we can't find this guy so he can take you off my hands.”

            They made their way past the infirmary below them in silence. The sky had gone completely dark now, and they had only the lights of the watchtower and those below to guide them. The night brought back some of the late winter cold and Dorian tugged his scarf over his nose. He kept close to Bull as they approached the overlook of the garden. Bull stopped just before the corner and held an arm out to bar Dorian's way.

            “Wait here a sec. Let me check it out first; better I go and get spotted than you.”

            Dorian nodded and watched as Bull disappeared behind the tower wall and stood off a little ways away until he reappeared to wave him over.

            They took up a spot on the battlements where the path bent around the guard tower. The tower to their backs, they had a clear view across the gardens to the other side of the battlements near the residents’ quarters. Dorian moved forward, wanting to lean over the inner wall to get a better look.

            “Yeah okay, stand in the only light so that you can be seen. Good thing you're wearing all black, though.”

            Dorian stopped in his tracks and huffed before slowly edging backwards to slump against the outer wall where Bull was already leaning. Dorian turned his head up to shoot him a glare, but when their eyes met Dorian felt as if he'd swallowed a bolt of electricity. He looked away quickly and he realized they were totally alone now.

            They stood in silence for a minute, both simply staring in the direction of Dorian's door across the way.

            “Which one's your room?” Bull finally said.

            “I thought you knew, Hissrad.” Dorian said smugly, some of his composure returning with his voice.

            “Well I know that someone like you would demand a fluffy bed and bath and those are the only rooms outside of the visiting dignitaries chambers and the Inquisitor’s that'd have 'em. But yeah, still a quiet a few doors there.”

            For some reason Dorian found the fact that Bull didn't where his room was upsetting. There was no reason for him to, he knew, yet it pulled at the string of thought that Bull could be leaving him the gifts.

            “The second one from the main chamber door.”

            Bull wouldn't possibly go through the trouble of standing out here waiting for no one just to keep up a charade. Surely he had better things to do. Even if he was interested in Dorian, why go through this amount of trouble for it? Bull had managed to get him to drop his guard in Orlais. If it was sex he was after, he merely needed to get him drunk again. So why...

            “So why do you want to know who this guy is so badly? I'm guessing this shit's happened to you before. What's so special about this guy?”

            Dorian turned to him at that, unsure of the answer himself. It was still strange to even talk about such a thing openly. He'd only just recently sat down with the Inquisitor and explained the debacle that was his relationship with his father, blood rituals and all. To have someone ask out of concern and not accusation was hard to comprehend.

            “You know at first, I was just glad for the distraction. It was familiar in a way, I suppose, and you're right, I have had suitors before in the Imperium but they were more... well they were mere dalliances at best. Most of the time they ended after they were... consummated.”

            “So you're saying every once in a while, some Magister took the stick out of his ass and stuck it in you instead until he got bored?”

            Dorian laughed at that, despite the hurt behind the crudeness. However hard it was to talk of it, he found himself wanting to - something he'd never desired before.

            “You know that's actually a fair way of putting it. But no, I've never been with a Magister actually. They would never risk letting Halward Pavus's son have a dirty secret on them. Most of the men I was with were… Laetans who had too little standing to cause my father trouble with rumors.”

            “Most of them?” Bull asked, not missing how Dorian's tone had changed.

            Dorian hesitated a moment, remembering his troubled youth. Bouncing from circle to circle he had made more enemies than friends. What stolen moments he had gotten with another boy were sloppy and impulsive. Shameful as it was, a bigger shame was that he could not admit to Bull that the majority of his experiences with men had been not with Laetans, but simply drunken nights with whores. The few times he had managed with men of his station were short-lived, most not lasting a season, and none could truly have been called relationships.

            “Ah, yes. Most of them. One was an Altus, though - the most recent one. If you’ll remember, I spent a solid few years with Alexius and his son Felix doing research in their estate in Asariel. We’d had an argument about the amulet then, seems ridiculous now that we’ve actually jumped through time but anyway, I ran off like I usually do. I made a series of… poor decisions. Long story short, I found myself in bed with Lord Abrexis’s son while my father’s hired thugs were killing each other in the foyer. All that just to steal me back to Qarinus so that he could hide away his shame. He kept me locked up at home for months.”

            Bull listened with an unreadable expression etched on his face. Dorian hadn’t even gone this in-depth about his past with Lavellan, keeping it mostly to his father’s reactions. He felt the vulnerability again, the rawness that nearly overwhelmed him around Bull.

            He kept talking.

            “I found out not a moment too soon he hadn’t just kept me locked up for no reason. No, he was planning a ritual for me, something that could tie up all my flaws into a nice, little, manageable package. Who would have thought a Magister would turn to performing blood magic on his own son over something so… well. He just wanted to use me to further our line. He wanted a child to pass on the name Pavus, that’s all he ever wanted – just a heir, not a son. Anyway I ran then, though I likely would have done that sooner or later. Would have been easier had I the time to pilfer coin from the family vault.”

            A silence hung in the air that was thick but not awkward. Dorian dropped his arms and gripped the stone of the wall, the roughness of it keeping him grounded in the now. It felt strange letting someone in, letting someone see his flaws laid bare and on display. But then again, he was safe with Bull.

            “Did you love him?”

            “Who?”

            “The Abrexis kid.”

            “Love him? Maker, no. I could barely risk liking him. No, if I had loved him, I doubt I would be here talking to you about it.”

            Dorian said no more after that, feeling the conversation finally threaten to overtake control of his emotions. He’d been watching his door the whole time he spoke, something to focus on, but no one had passed by.

            “It’s funny how similar the two of us are, for all our differences.” Bull finally said after another stretch of silence. Dorian cocked his head to him at that, confused but intrigued.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, I know a thing or two about having your whole life predetermined since before you’re even born and to leave it violently.”

            The Qun. Of course. Bull was Tal-Vashoth now. It had happened a while ago, but they had never spoken of it. Dorian hadn’t been there when it happened. He’d begged the Inquisitor not to make him go back to that sopping wet coastline and she’d agreed to let him stay, taking Solas instead. In truth, he’d been afraid to see Bull with the Qun; afraid he might leave or turn against them. He’d only heard the ruckus upon their return and read the report afterwards. He’d never known how to broach the subject with Bull so he never had.

            “I’m sorry, Bull. I didn’t think. My selfishness is my biggest flaw, it seems.” Dorian turned to him with a sigh, stepping in closer than he usually would.

            “You’re allowed to be selfish about this, Dorian.”

            “No. I meant I’m sorry I didn’t consider you. I haven’t bothered to even ask about what happened with the Chargers. You act like nothing’s changed in front of us all but… well clearly that would have taken a toll on you.”

            Bull’s mask dropped from his face, replaced first by a pained expression and then by a softer one. The candidness of it surprised Dorian. He wanted to reach out and place his hand on Bull’s cheek in comfort. Instead, he stared at his feet awkwardly.

            “It’s not like we were friends at the time. Honestly if you’d asked me about it, I doubt I would have even answered you then.”

            Dorian looked up to find the same soft expression on Bull’s face. It was hard to look at him, like a glare on the horizon. It was so much more honesty than he was used to receiving. He looked away towards his door of his room, thinking of what he could possibly say in response.

            “I suppose you’re right. Still…” Dorian looked up to meet his eye then, this time speaking with no reservation, “You are a good man and you made the right decision. The Qun was forced on you, but you chose the Chargers, and that makes them real. So many people have put their trust in you,” he paused for a moment, lingering on Bull’s eye patch, “You’ve never betrayed that trust. It’s beyond admirable.”

            Bull’s face broke into the slacked jawed smile Dorian had grown fond of. He smiled back, feeling a warmth wash over him.

            “Lavellan helped too, though. But uh, yeah. Thanks Dorian.”

            For some reason, the simple thanks left Dorian embarrassed. He felt his face go hot when Bull’s gaze lingered on him after the moment passed.

            “Well! This isn’t much of a stakeout now is it?” Dorian said, trying to lighten the conversation. He fussed at his scarf toggles, completely at odds with his feelings. He was letting his emotions run away and for once, he wasn’t running with them.

            “Actually this is pretty much how a stakeout goes – bunch of standing around staring at a whole lot of nothing. Sometimes nothing happens for hours. Just how it goes; company’s better than usual, though.”

            Dorian let out a short snort at that, but kept staring forward, convinced if he looked back at The Bull he would unravel. Almost on cue, he felt Bull move closer, yet still madly out of reach. It was like all of his senses were reaching out for the other man, and it was all Dorian could do to keep them in check. He could even feel his mana pooling in his fingertips responding to his heighted state, beating in time with his heart.

            Bull shifted to cross his ankles as he leaned back on the stone half-wall. Dorian heard the motion in perfect clarity; the sound of Bull’s leather harness tightening was suddenly obscene. And he was so close that he could smell him again, that same heavy, masculine scent… and something else?

            He had nearly puzzled out the aroma when something brushed through his hair. Dorian turned around frantically, searching for a source only to find the expanse of the Frostbacks behind him. A small chuckle emanated from Bull, but Dorian knew better than to fall for that.

            Another moment passed and it happened again; this time long enough for Dorian to catch the sight of Bull’s horn above him.

            "What in the-“

            Dorian finally gave in, looking to Bull with bewilderment as the other man laughed much too loudly for someone on a stealth mission.

            "You’re wound so tight I can feel the veil thinning. Just come over here already.”

            Where before Dorian would have objected on pretense, instead he closed the gap between them without a second thought. As Bull’s arms wrapped around him, so did the sense of excitement and recklessness that had swept him up in Halamshiral. It was like he’d never left.

            “Was I that obvious?” Dorian managed to ask before Bull’s hand cupped his chin, stopping his words by pressing his thumb to his lips.

            “Yes.” Bull answered in a low voice as he brushed the tip of his thumb through Dorian’s mustache. He pulled the mage in closer with his other arm, smirking at the gasp he felt as much as heard. He felt Dorian go tense, and anticipated his resistance.

            “Bull someone could walk by, we haven’t seen a patrol in-“ Dorian said more from habit than from actual concern.

            “Don’t care.” Bull replied easily, his voice thick before leaning down to catch Dorian in a kiss. The mage leaned into it, threading his fingers into the strap of Bull’s harness, giving himself over completely. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized they’d wouldn’t notice anyone approach Dorian’s room even if they waved across the way to them. He found he didn’t much care. 

            Bull worked his tongue into Dorian’s mouth with no resistance, this time taking his time to savor it, noting every little move and sound Dorian made under his ministrations. He pulled back just to bite at the mage’s lower lip, winning another little gasp for his efforts. He smiled as Dorian’s hands left his harness and dug themselves into his chest.

            Dorian was so lost in Bull’s rough kisses, he didn’t notice when the other man’s hand had left him until it came back as a slap on the ass. He let out a small yelp at that and threw Bull an indignant look even as their lips were still locked.

            “So rough!” Dorian shot out between kisses. Bull laughed darkly, sending a wave of arousal through the mage.

            “Too much for you, ‘vint?” Bull whispered into Dorian’s ear, catching his lobe between his teeth as he did.

            “I’m offended you’d even suggest that.” Dorian replied is as honeyed a voice as he could manage. Bull nipped at his neck before pulling back, enjoying the petulant look Dorian gave him at the loss of lips on his skin.

            “Always so indignant. Could just say, ‘harder, Bull’ if that’s what you want,” Bull teased, palming Dorian’s ass but using his height to keep Dorian from kissing him again.

            Dorian shot him the dirtiest look he could manage. Bull only laughed, goading him on to see what he’d do.

            In one fluid motion Dorian reached upward, standing on his toes, and caught one of Bull’s horns. He dragged it downward until Bull was within reach and then locked eyes with him, giving a smug smile before delivering the command into the shell of the Qunari’s ear.

            “Harder, Bull.”

            The words slipped out softly, breathless with need, the weight of it having a delayed effect on both of them. An instant later, Dorian felt himself wrenched upwards and slammed into the stone of the guard tower wall, both arms held firmly above his head by Bull’s massive right hand. Bull was staring down at him with a wicked intensity as he parted Dorian’s legs with his knee, leaving Dorian no means to hide his arousal.

            Without pause, Bull leaned down to bite Dorian’s neck, carefully pulling back the wool scarf around it. His teeth bit harshly into flesh, nearly to the point of breaking skin. He bit until Dorian moaned, and then traced back, licking and sucking at the bruising flesh until he could feel the mage trembling beneath him.

            Bull stopped then, reveling in the whine that emitted from Dorian. Even so, he ignored the plea, instead casting his gaze downwards at the burgeoning erection he’d elicited from the man. Still holding him tightly with one hand, Bull raised one knee upwards slowly, letting it graze over the tented fabric, pressing it up and against him. Dorian’s eyes rolled upwards until he shut them in pleasure, muttering in Tevene under his breath until Bull put a stop to it with his lips.

            As he kissed him again, Bull began to slowly pull the scarf free, a wicked idea coming to mind. Dorian didn’t catch on at first, thinking Bull only wanted better access to his neck. Bull pulled Dorian’s hands down, only to reposition them behind his back. As Dorian felt the soft fabric floss its way between his wrists and back again, realization dawned on him with delight.

            “Not the best thing for the job, but I get it done.” Bull all but purred as he busied his now free hands at Dorian’s throat, clasping it on either side while his thumbs wedged just behind the curve of his jaw.

            Dorian tugged at the makeshift restraint tentatively, torn between wanting to feel them resist and worrying about tearing his gift. Maker, if the man who gave him this knew it’d be used this way; Dorian looked into Bull’s eye then, considering the possibility of it yet again. No, surely…?

            But before the thought could cross his lips to form the question, Bull spun him around, this time pushing him against the half wall barrier. Bull had him pinned against it, pushing his groin against the mage’s ass. One hand wrapped around Dorian’s bound wrists, while the other snaked around his neck, pulling him back towards Bull, causing his back to arch dramatically. Whatever Dorian was thinking before was utterly erased and replaced only with lust.

            “Bull…” Dorian pleaded in a strained voice as Bull tightened his grip around his neck. Bull licked up the back of Dorian’s neck, to end in a light nip at the nape. It was all Dorian could do to not grind back against Bull’s own erection. He tried desperately not to imagine it, not to think about how obscene the size of it felt, the last of his reservations hanging on the ability to do so. He tried, but when Bull bucked his hips lazily Dorian leaned into it with yet another moan. Bull stayed still after that, leaving Dorian to writhe and buck against him.

            “Yeah. Knew you’d like that.” Bull said haughtily as he twisted the scarf, fiddling with the toggles as he did so. He had Dorian right where he wanted him, in a good mood and in the right headspace. All he needed now was to make the simple suggestion to carry on somewhere more private…

            And then, somewhere behind them, a door slammed open. Laughter and shouting came from across the garden, and Bull turned to see Sera and the Inquisitor running from a very angry Josephine.

            “Ah shit.”

            Dorian turned his head as Bull released it, seeing with horror that the duo was about to round the corner that would send them their way. He scrambled under Bull’s grasp, who still held him in place.

            “Untie me. Bull, untie me right now. If they find us like this, no if they find us at all-”

            But Bull was already pushing Dorian away from the two, as he saw the elves disappear under the covered walkway.

            “No time. Run.”

            “You have got to be kidding me.”

            “Nope.”

            Bull kept pushing him along until Dorian finally took to running, hands still tied, gritting his teeth at the ridiculous of the situation.

            They made it to the second guard tower before Bull noticed Dorian lagging behind. The elves were still coming.

            “Bull why are they following us, did they see? If Sera finds out, I will… I will never speak to you again.”

            “Hey, shut up a sec. They’re heading for the tavern. We just have to clear that.”

            “I did not leave the Imperium for this!”

            Bull didn’t wait for Dorian to move, instead he scooped the mage up and threw him over shoulder and kept running.

            “Hessarian’s Blade! This is like a scene out straight out of a Tevinter comedy.”

            “Imagine if you could run as fast as your mouth.”

            As Bull approached the stairwell, he took a last look over his shoulder. In the shadows, they weren’t visible but had perhaps twenty seconds on them to hide. With Dorian still slung over his shoulder, he took a risk, taking the stairs three at a time until the two of them tumbled into the training yard.

            Bull’s gamble paid off, the yard empty at this hour. He ducked behind the largest bush he could find, crouching as he held his hand over Dorian’s mouth. The two watched as the pair of elves stomped down the stairs noisily, running directly into the tavern as Bull had predicted.

            “Hey look at that, I was right.” Bull said simply as Dorian looked at him as if Andraste herself had appeared before him.

            “If they had seen us-”

            “But they didn’t.”

            “Only because you threw me over your shoulder like a savage!”

            “Hey. I got us out of there okay? Your sparkling reputation is safe.”

            Bull leaned in as Dorian continued to complain, cupped his chin and kissed him softly. Dorian went quite at that, startled at the tenderness of it. Worldlessly, Bull shifted Dorian in front of him and began to untie his wrists. He wrapped the scarf back around the mage’s neck and planted another small kiss on his neck as he finished.

            “There. Should cover up the damage I did. Nobody’s gonna know.”

            “Ah… yes. Thank you.”

            “You’re lucky you already have a reputation for wearing that thing. Good excuse.”

            Dorian turned to face Bull then, smiling at him genuinely. He knew he should just go now, their stakeout a complete farce. But he couldn’t resist leaning in for one last parting kiss. He felt sheepish as he broke away, realizing that Bull was just as capable of undoing him with tenderness as he was with force. Seemingly sensing it, Bull placed a single kiss on Dorian’s forehead before he finally stood and helped Dorian to his feet as well.

            “Well. Looks like you’re mystery man didn’t come by tonight. That or we missed him.”

            “Yes. It seems like tonight was a complete and utter waste of time.”

            Dorian said it in his usual mocking tone, but a wide grin had spread on his face even before he’d finished. Bull smiled back and Dorian felt a sort of fondness bloom that in him he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt, or at least allowed, before. It felt like a copper coin had been dropped into a long empty well. Neither made mention of leaving together, both understanding the moment had passed, both secretly understanding another would come again.

            The two parted then, and Dorian made his way up through the main hall and back around to his room. He tried not to notice nor laugh as a soaking wet Josephine stood detailing to Varric whatever mischief the two elves had gotten into just minutes before.

            Dorian was surprised to find a bottle of perfume sitting on his dresser when he returned to his quarters. He’d made the situation up, and yet his suitor had still left him a gift. It left Dorian feeling strangely disappointed. If he’d spent the entire night with Bull, when could he have left this gift? Dorian picked up the bottle, finding no accompanying note with it. He unscrewed the top to reveal a musky scent that all at once clicked the final piece into place.

            It was the last scent he hadn’t been able to identify on Bull earlier that night.

            And as if caught on fire, Dorian fled to his desk, quickly drawing up a quill and paper. He began writing a letter in reply to the gift. He was done waiting, and wanted an answer.

He wrote the letter as if he was still unsure, still asking questions to cover bases in case he was wrong. But he couldn’t be wrong, could he? The perfume was an unmistakable move, one Bull clearly planned, yet uncertainty and fear still plagued him. It could be a joke, or simply something to do to pass the time – a game. It could still be simply a ploy to get him into bed.

            Dorian wondered at why that would bother him. He’d have followed Bull to bed tonight if it weren’t for the interruption. That wouldn’t be so bad, in fact it would probably be fantastic. Yet it did not explain the words in the previous letter, nor the fluttered feeling Dorian had had in his gut when Bull had kissed him so sweetly.

            He finished the letter after a few minutes, not entirely pleased with it. He’d asked them who they were and made it clear he was no longer interested in waiting. He’d meant to sound flirty, but it had come out more needy. It would have to do.

            Dorian went to bed not long after, hoping that when he left the letter on his bed the next day it would be gone by dusk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that beginning dialogue about Dorian's outfit. I imagine Bull as the really annoying Naruto kid in high school who talks about how ninja's actually wear DARK BLUE not BLACK and how that would actually not be good camo at night time and Dorian is the cool kid that is like why are you sitting next to me at lunch I look fabulous. No I'm not talking about my own experiences what are you talking about.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features more of my Samahl'nan Lavellan, once again within an inch of getting her shit slapped because of her raging Dalish pride. Is Solas making things better or worse, that is the $1,000,000 question these days, ain't it?

 

 

            A week had passed since Dorian’s letter had disappeared from the end of his bed. He’d assumed he would get a reply quickly, but nothing had come. What if it wasn’t Bull? Had he been too forward in asking him to reveal who he was? Maybe he never intended to reveal himself, or had reconsidered after his letter.

            Dorian tried to put it out of his mind, trying instead to bury his thoughts in his reading. He spent the better part of the day in the library, trying to use his time productively, researching the newly founded school of rift magic. He’d found it tedious and vague, not understanding the concepts described without the Inquisitor there to demonstrate or answer his questions. What was worse, he’d catch himself daydreaming from time to time, imagining running into Bull sneaking out of his room, caught red-handed. He didn’t know what he’d do after, but the satisfaction of discovery was enough for his wandering mind.

            After a few hours, he gave up and returned the strange book on rift magic to the Inquisitor. She proposed he stayed to sup with her, as she insisted Dorian had been avoiding their shared mealtimes as of late. It was as good a distraction as any, Dorian thought, and accepted. It would kill a few hours, at least.

            The meal was pleasant enough, and he even managed to take his mind off of his own worries as Lavellan gossiped to him about Blackwall and Josephine. It was easier to theorize about the possibility of others relationships than his own. He could tell the Inquisitor needed distraction as much as he; they were to march on to the newly found Temple of Mythal in three days time. He could not imagine how that was affecting her relationship with Solas.

            But eventually, Dorian had to bid the Inquisitor goodbye and brave the reality of his situation. He trudged back in a sour mood, angry with himself both for caring too much and for not being more clever in his note. He hadn’t let the Inquisitor in on the situation, partly from embarrassment but also partly because it preserved the ridiculous sentiment that he’d only trusted Bull with the knowledge.

            Making it to his door, he stood for a moment and sighed. He was being foolish, and collected himself for disappointment. But when Dorian entered his room, he was greeted with the sight of a small, wooden box sitting on the edge of his bed. Excitement and dread flushed through him as he closed the door and then he simply stared at it for a moment before picking it up and hastily opening it.

            Inside, a single earring sat on a red satin cushion. It was crescent shaped and made of ivory with gold tips on either end. Instead of having an earring back, one side had a stud and the other a hole that connected through the ear. The effect being that it looked like a single, seamless piece.

            Dorian picked it up, revealing a folded piece of paper was tucked into the box as well. As much as he had been dying for exactly such a note, the thing in reality was far more terrifying. He set it aside for now, bracing himself for it.

Instead, he looked at the earring, and found that the ivory was carved with delicate, swirling markings. They seemed familiar, yet Dorian couldn’t recall where he’d seen them before. It was beautiful, and a smile spread across his face as he thumbed at it idly. The other gifts had been lovely, but this was something different, something fine. And it suited him; a single, large earring meant to be worn alone as a statement. Whoever had sent it clearly knew his taste.

            Dorian put the earring on, feeling only a little foolish at how much he liked it. He tugged on it slightly, finding the weight of it on his ear pleasing. He looked back at the box, noticing it too had the same intricate markings as the earring. He’d missed them in his haste to open it.

            And then nervously, he reached for the note. He silently chastised himself for being hesitant now, but coupled with such a lavish gift, he feared what it may reveal.

 

            _Dorian,_

_I know leaving you hanging for a week has probably been driving you mad. Well, I hope this makes up for it. I’d planned to get this for you since the Winter Ball, believe it or not. It took longer than I would have liked to have it commissioned. Plus it was pretty nuts getting the materials in the first place. I knew if I was going to get you something like this, it had to be custom. Anyway, blame it on the Orlesians. Bastards._

_It’s made of dragon’s tooth, from that big ass one in the Emprise du Lion actually, the fire breather. At first I had wanted to get a little dragon engraved on it, but I figured it would be hard to get enough detail like that on something so small. Besides, the markings I went with make more sense. I’ll tell you what they mean when I see you next, if you want that._

            Dorian sucked in his breath. That must mean they’re going to meet soon. If he wanted? Of course he wanted that. Well, if it was who he thought it was.

            _I wanted to give you something personal. Something that other people would see and know it meant you belonged to me. Sappy right? You don’t even know who I am yet, but then again, you do, don’t you? Man, that’d be pretty fucking embarrassing for both of us if you don’t know. Guess that might be a little funny, actually._

Dorian’s heart was in his throat, yet he was still able to roll his eyes. Who else could ever inspire such contradicting feelings in him?

            _Look, I just wanted to say this before you decide if this is what you want or not. I didn’t really know what I was thinking when I started leaving things for you. All I know is that I wanted to see you happy. I don’t know when, but I noticed I’ve changed since I’ve met you. I can’t even explain what it is, but I like it. I’ve never met anyone like you. It pisses me off when you’re not around. Every time I see you smile or hear your laugh... it just fucks me up. I like you, Dorian. Not just your pretty face and tight little ass. Okay, maybe we should have this conversation in person. I just wanted to give you an out if you don’t feel the same. But I think I know what you want. I think you do too._

_To be honest, I’m a little nervous about this. I’m not used to it. You’re worth the discomfort, though. I’m gonna sign my name at the end of this, and I want you to do me a favor. If you decide you want this, wear the earring tomorrow. I won’t make a fuss if people are around, but if you wear it, I’ll know to stop by your room later that evening. But Dorian, if you wear it, that means you’re mine. I think you know where I’m going with this._

            Dorian's hand shot to his ear, feeling the earring’s weight carry a different meaning. He sat there a second, fumbling with it. The letter only had another few lines and a twice-folded end that could only be doubled over to keep the signature secret until the end. Dorian continued reading, the earring still dangling from his ear.

_If you don’t want to wear it, that’s okay. Really. You won’t have to worry about me breaking into your room any more either, I promise. I know things won’t be the same if you decide you’re not interested, and I won’t pretend they are, but I’ll understand. We’ll just find a new normal. I guess we’ll find out soon enough._

Dorian sat there, thumbing the edge of the folded paper. He knew whose name was underneath. He had never been surer of anything in his life. He had heard Bull’s voice narrating the letter as he read it, and Bull was right; he really had known for some time, even before the perfume. Even so, Dorian’s stomach dropped at the sight of ‘The Iron Bull’ scrawled across the bottom of the page. Something about seeing it made it real, too real. He ran his fingers over the name, his pulse racing. He thought back to all the gifts, feeling stupid for not seeing the signs sooner. Suddenly his mind recalled one miserable, cold night on the Storm Coast made better by a simple blanket and wondered even at that.

            Dorian got up and readied himself for bed quickly. He took the earring off as he slipped into bed, careful to place it back into its box with the letter. He blew out his lamp, willing himself eagerly into the Fade. Tomorrow could not come quickly enough.

 

 

           

            Dorian awoke the next day in a lazy haze. He rolled on his side, opening his eyes slowly to the rising sun. For a few moments, it aggravated him. He could tell by the slant of the light that he had woken earlier than usual. He cursed softly, pulling his other pillow over his head. Then like it sometimes happens, the previous night’s events came rushing back all at once, startling Dorian awake.

            Unable to stay in bed, he washed and took extra care to ready himself. Spending a full hour shaving, styling his hair and deciding which of his outfits would best match his newest gift.

            Ultimately, he decided on a high-necked tunic made of royale sea silk accented in samite. The buckles of his belt and the large shoulder plate were volcanic aurum, their golden sheen matching the earring nicely. Perhaps it was a bit showy for a day in at Skyhold, but who would stop Dorian Pavus for wearing something too showy?

            Collecting himself for the day, he appraised himself once more in the mirror. The earring glistened in the sunlight that came through the window. Dorian turned his head, feeling it swing lightly with the motion. It looked fantastic on him. Nervousness still boiled in his stomach, but a light giddiness layered over it.

            He knew everything was in his favor, that he already had his answer, but he was walking into the unknown all the same. He was vaguely aware of how dissimilar this was to his previous experiences with men who had courted him. Those times they had been trysts at best, short moments stolen with the knowledge that they would have a quick end. No one ever admitted nerves or offered to back off if desired; that would break the illusion. But Bull’s letter was real, and he’d certainly never gotten a letter that contained any mention of his happiness. He tried not to read into things too much.

            He left his room, not entirely sure where he wanted to spend the day. He’d given it no thought whatsoever. He settled on breakfast, which amounted to little more than picking at fruit and a bite of toast. He was so worried that Bull would appear at any second that he barely ate; he didn’t want to be caught with a mouthful of food. He decided to retreat to more familiar territory.

            The morning passed without incident in the library. He knew better than to expect to get any work done and had brought along his poetry book. He enjoyed them twice over, tinting them with new meaning now that he knew they had come from Bull. He actually managed to become quiet engrossed, and did not notice when Solas approached him.

            “Dorian.”

            “I-Yes?”

            Dorian snapped up from his book, his heart immediately pounding. He looked up to see Solas standing before him, his hands politely folded behind his back. The adrenaline washed out of him, and Dorian frowned.

            “Well you weren’t who I wanted to see.”

            “Forgive me, then. I only came at the request of the Inquisitor.” Solas looked at him, slight amusement on his face as he looked over Dorian’s outfit. He said nothing of it, however, and continued to relay his message.

            “She requests we meet in the war room immediately. It’s no emergency, but we’ll be discussing our strategy for approaching the Temple of Mythal.”

            “Just us mages then? Some magical trap needing disarming? You couldn’t do it for her?”

            “She requested the presence of the entire away team, actually.”

            “She did? Oh.”

            Solas watched as Dorian stood and patted out any wrinkles in his outfit from sitting, a nervous tremor evident in his demeanor. The elf gave him a questioning look, to which Dorian brushed off with a smile. Solas only nodded, and proceeded to lead the way out of the library and to the war room.

            Every step was like walking on glass, the mage’s aura fluctuating wildly as he tried to get his nerves under control. The Iron Bull would be there, inevitably. It would all come to a head in front of the entire inner circle of the Inquisition. For once in his life, Dorian wanted very much to be able to blend in and be forgotten in the crowd.

            “Are you unwell, Dorian?” Solas suddenly asked, stopping just short of the large wooden doors of the war room.

            “Me? No. I’m quite all right. Right as rain. Excellent, in fact.”

            “I don’t mean to meddle, but your aura is in knots. If you are nervous about the mission, I can assure you that it’s nothing so-“

            “The mission? Not in the least. It really is nothing.” and then because Solas remained unconvinced he quickly added, “It’s a personal matter. I’ll try to calm myself. Forgive me.”

            Sola’s expression softened at that, a small smile played on his face. Blessedly, he did not pry, and the two entered the war room without further discussion.

            Dorian walked into a nearly full room. Morrigan, the newest advisor to the Inquisition, seemed to already be in a heated discussion with the Inquisitor. Cullen was doing his best to try and calm Lavellan down, gingerly placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to pull her attention to him. She brushed him off easily, yelling even louder at Morrigan for whatever it was she was suggesting. Solas left Dorian’s side, swiftly making his way to the scene. Wordlessly, he silenced the argument with a single look. The Inquisitor following him to the head of the table, though she still glared daggers at the Witch of the Wilds. Dorian watched as Sola’s hand moved to her wrist, swirling shapes with his finger on her skin, a distraction from her anger.

            Dorian stood captivated by the scene until he realized that he was standing in the doorway alone. He turned, looking for a spot around the table he could slip into, until he saw him.

            The Iron Bull was already looking at him. Dorian’s hand went up automatically, reaching for the earring. Luckily he managed to stop it, playing at adjusting his collar as he willed himself to move forward, his legs suddenly disinclined to move. His thoughts went curiously blank as he took a place next to Varric, almost exactly across from Bull. He gave him one look, afraid of what he would see.

            Their eyes met. The feeling was electric, as if a drop of lyrium had been placed on his tongue. Bull’s expression was completely placid. Not a single muscle moved nor a motion out of place to indicate anything out of the ordinary, but his eye pierced Dorian like a lance. Bull’s eye flickered for just a moment over to the earring, and then he broke contact, turning back to the Inquisitor who began to speak.

            It was like he was back in the Chantry as a boy, fidgeting in place as a sermon was given, wanting nothing more than to run from the room. Bull had seen the earring. He knew now. What was he thinking? What would they say after this? Would he say anything?

           “...And this bitch thinks she should drink from the Well! I know you guys don’t know shit about Elvhen culture but holy shit that’s just…”

            Dorian tried to focus. Lavellan was making an excellent effort as she yelled wildly about the Well of Sorrows and her right to drink from it. At some point, Dorian realized they had been called upon to give their opinion and Varric had to nudge him when it was his turn. Bull had just drummed his fingers on the table and Dorian had found it unnaturally captivating.

           “Sparkler, get your head out of the Fade!”

           “Ah! Right. Well, to be quite honest, I wouldn’t trust it. What do we know of this Well, truly? I say we at least get a look at it, see if it even really exists before we make any rash decisions?”

          “It's Elvhen! It exists! Honestly, Dorian! I thought you would at least understand. Bull, what do you think?”

           Dorian looked to Bull then, now having an appropriate excuse to do so. He was facing towards the Inquisitor, but Dorian could feel him watching out of the corner of his eye. It set him on fire, seeing him answering so coolly while he was a mess. Varric noticed the mages’s state, his ability to sniff out drama uncanny. Dorian pulled his gaze from Bull for long enough to suffer another nudge and a smirk from the dwarf. He gave him a sneer and waved him off.

         “... I mean fuck it. You wanna do it, Boss? Do it. I’ve never known you to be one to timidly walk into the unknown. I say dive into the damn thing head first. Besides, how could you take Dorian seriously, look at that earring. Dorian, where do you even find shit like that around here?”

           Dorian's eyes went wide at that, and he had to grasp the side of the table to keep himself together. He grit his teeth and said nothing in response, unable to formulate anything close to the common tongue. Everyone seemed to notice the lack of a quip in retort, but otherwise went back to the more pressing matter at hand. Varric, however, wore a shit-eating grin and looked as if Satinalia had come early this year. Dorian kept his jaw clenched, silently promising revenge while the smallest hint of a smile appeared on Bull’s face. Dorian’s heart skipped a beat despite himself.

            “… can’t possibly be making an argument against me, can you Solas? We’re elves! You of all people should understand the importance. Why aren’t you backing me in this? Last night you said…”

           Varric was now leaning over to Sera, whispering into her pointed ear. Dorian shot them both a poisonous warning glare. Sera cracked a crooked smile and suppressed a snort as she looked back and forth from Dorian to The Iron Bull. Dorian turned away from them, mortified. He looked back just in time to see the Inquisitor brandishing a dagger at Morrigan.

           “Who the fuck died and made you Arcane Advisor?”

           “Empress Celene and you, respectively, if you’re being literal.”

           “Fuck you!”

           Lavellan leapt at Morrigan, her dagger held high in the air. Solas sidestepped quickly as Cassandra grabbed the Inquisitor’s wrist and twisted the dagger out of her hand. She plunged it into the map, channeling her anger into it rather than flesh.

 _“Enough_!”

            That certainly got everyone’s attention, and a silence fell that was deafening. Cassandra stood, regaining her composure. A small ‘a-hem’ from Vivienne signaled to the Seeker that she had the floor.

            “Forgive me, but it is not words and petty argument that we need, but action. We must go to this temple, and swiftly, or it will not matter who drinks. I trust you can come to a decision on our way there, Inquisitor. You will have our support, when it matters, as always.”

            No one could argue with that, her words effectively a closing statement. The Inquisitor, however, looked as if she was planning a follow up attack. Morrigan gave a vicious smile, inviting her to try. Luckily Solas was pulling Lavellan away, and the rest of the group instinctively filled the space between them until it was safe. With the meeting through, Varric stepped in to seize his opportunity.

           “Dorian, you’ve been holding out on me, you dog! There’s something going on between yo-“

           “Dorian covered the dwarf’s mouth, pushing him backwards as he did.

            “Not now, dwarf. For the love of Andraste. Not. Now.”

            “Oh come on, we’ve all suspected! Hell, it’s not even that big of a deal.”

            “Not! Now! Go bother your girlfriend Seeker, she could use a punching bag, it seems.”

            “That was weak, Sparkler. Is that really all you have? Honestly, you know Bianca’s my forever gal.”

            “Kindly leave me be!”

            Dorian managed to shoo Varric and made a quick retreat towards Josephine. He just had to wait around for someone to leave and he’d be free to leave without appearing eager or rude. Lady Josephine could be trusted to keep to decorum, all he had to do was strike up an easy conversation and he’d be relatively safe. Josephine greeted him with a warm smile as he approached.

            “Monsieur Pavus! Good to see you wearing your gift. I must admit I was skeptical at first when Bull had asked me to help him procure it, but it seems all is well between you two after all. I’m quite happy for you.”

            “Dear Maker, you know too?”

            “Oh! Forgive me, is it meant to be a secret still? I’ll keep quiet from now on.”

            “Still? Honestly - the lot of you!”

            Dorian waved her off as he left the meeting first, courtesies be damned. Josephine smiled after him, catching Bull’s eye with a wink from across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't think literally everyone in the group has been in on Bull's little gift giving stunt, you're lying to yourself. Josephine has been in on it for months. MONTHS. She told Cassandra and they gossip about it over lunch occasionally.
> 
> Also my Lavellan... you try hun, u try, but no. No Honey, no.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, this is the NSFW chapter. B]

 

 

            Dorian hadn’t trusted himself in public after the meeting. If Varric and Sera knew, then so too would the rest of Skyhold within the hour. After slinking out of the main hall he stopped off at the kitchen, grabbing food to keep himself holed up in his quarters until nightfall.

            By sunset Dorian was positively antsy, pacing around the room, touching up his makeup, and attempting to read doing little to calm him. Why was he so nervous? He’d reread the letter several more times since morning. Out of all the things he could overanalyze, out of all the innuendo and want laced into the words, one sentence continued to take his breath away each time.

_But Dorian, if you wear it, that means you’re mine._

            A knock at the door shattered his thoughts. Suddenly his fingertips felt like ice and he could actually hear his heart pounding. He tried to calm himself and realign his aura as he stood. With little success, he moved towards the door and caught a last glimpse of his earring sparkle in the mirror as he passed.

            In the waning light of dusk, Bull stood as big as the doorway leering down at Dorian, arms crossed with a confident smile on his face. Dorian moved automatically, allowing Bull to enter as he ducked to fit his horns. Dorian found it oddly amusing.

            “I wasn’t sure it was you knocking. I thought you’d just climb through a window or pick the lock.” Dorian said surprised at the smoothness of his voice. Bull gave a short laugh as he watched Dorian close the door.

            “Told you I wasn’t gonna break in anymore.”

            Dorian’s chest tightened at that, the reference to the letter connecting fantasy and reality. He moved to stand near his dresser, unsure what to do with himself.

            “Forgive me for doubting the man that’s been leading me on with this whole mystery suitor charade for the past several months.”

            “What, you didn’t like it?”

            Dorian had to quiet the part of him that was too honest. The part of him that didn’t just like it, but loved it. The romantic in him saw it as a sweeping gesture of a caring lover. The survivor in him told him to look for traps.

            “I didn’t say that.”

            Bull smirked at that as he moved forward and reached up to touch the earring with the tips of his fingers. Dorian’s aura flared at that. He wondered if Bull could feel it.

            “You know why I got this for you?” Bull asked as he let his hand fall back to his side. Dorian shook his head. “There’s this thing the Qunari do, sometimes. We don’t have relationships in the Qun like what humans have but when we really care about someone, there’s this old tradition we have.”

            Dorian’s breath caught, and his eyes fell from Bull’s face down to his hands as he pulled out a necklace that was identical to the earring he wore.

            “We find a dragon’s tooth and split it in half. Usually, we make necklaces out of it. I knew you’d never wear something so big and clunky with all your fancy clothes, so I had an earring made. I had the other half carved the same into a pendant, for me. Bit non-traditional but fuck it – I’m Tal-Vashoth now anyway, right?”

            Dorian felt himself go weak. He could think of no response as Bull handed him the ends of the necklace and leaned down, waiting for Dorian to put it around his neck. With a choked laugh Dorian did as he was bid, taking more than a moment to steady his hands to hook the clasp. He fought the sting of tears as he let his arms drop and fingers lace around Bull’s neck. It had been so much more than he’d expected.

            “In the letter, you said the markings meant something?” He asked in a shaky voice as Bull put his arms around his waist.

            “Yeah. We don’t get names in the Qun either, you know. But a lot of us make symbols or marks to sign documents with, or to decorate our armor. This is what I made for myself.”

            He gestured down to his harness, Dorian seeing the swirling patterns in the leather in a new light. They matched the symbols on Dorian’s earring. Bull lifted his pendant to reveal his had Dorian’s name lightly etched into the back of it.

            “Oh, Bull…” was all Dorian could manage. The dam of his emotions was breaking and it terrified him. It was sweet and strange and he couldn’t make sense of it.

            “Good. Thought you’d think it was too cheesy or something. I mean I guess it kind of is.”

            “No, it’s fantastic. I just… well, I hadn’t thought you were the romantic type.”

            Bull looked at him strangely for a moment, and then seemed to consider the truth of the words. He let the necklace drop back to his chest and scooped Dorian’s chin up and kissed him once.

            “Maybe I’m am. Not like I’ve had a whole lotta practice with this shit.”

            Dorian rolled his eyes, and Bull sighed in exasperation. Then, without warning, he picked Dorian up, hands under ass so Dorian was straddling him, and they were face to face.

            “I know what you need, Dorian. You need lavish gifts, cliché romance and soft kisses in the dark. You need me to be rough with you, to tie you up and put my cock in your ass. You need someone who’s strong enough to fight off any fucker who is fool enough to try and drag you back to the Imperium. You need someone who’s smart enough to read your mood, see that you’re taken care of in any way you desire, and you need to feel safe. Maybe I’m not a romantic, but I want to do those things for you. I want to be that man, Kadan.”

            Dorian kissed him then, his walls utterly shattered. He let his hands run over Bull’s face, his neck and up even to the base of his horns. His heart was so full and for once it did not ache. For once he was himself, completely.

            Dorian trailed kisses along Bull’s jaw, moving to his ear and nipped at it as he spoke. He barely registered the words that spilled out of his mouth.

            “I’m yours, I’m yours. I want you and I’m yours. Bull, oh Maker Bull, the things you make me feel. I’m yours, my Amatus.”

            Bull carried Dorian to the bed, placing Dorian on his back as he leaned down over him. Dorian laughed as Bull’s face creased in consternation as he tried to undo the ridiculous clasps and buckles of Dorian’s outfit. Dorian sat up, allowing for easier access, taking the opportunity to kiss Bull’s collarbone.

            At last freed from his outfit, Dorian lay splayed before Bull, naked except for his earring. He smiled smugly as Bull appraised him hungrily, trailing his large hands along his chest down to his hips. Dorian’s cock was half hard already and the feel of Bull’s thumbs pressing into his hips was ecstasy. The pleasure amplified still by the sight of the pendant dangling above him.

            Bull pulled a length of rope from a pouch on his belt, and held it up to Dorian as a question. Dorian nodded furiously and the slacked jawed smile he loved so much appeared on Bull’s face.

            Bull leaned up over him, and Dorian’s heart pounded at the sight. He was so big, so solid. He could not believe that all that man was his, truly his. He reached a hand up to touch Bull’s chest as Bull was securing the rope to the headboard.

            Bull snatched up his wrist quickly, and pinned it and its twin up above the mage’s head. Dorian made an annoyed humph at that, but Bull only tightened his grip on Dorian’s wrists as he tied the soft rope around them.

            “Thought you’d know better than that, Kadan.” Bull said teasingly once Dorian’s wrists were secure.

            “Tell me what that word means.”

            “What, you don’t know Qunlat? What are they teaching over there in the Imperium?”

            Dorian writhed against the restraints, loving the feel of the ropes biting into him. He lifted his hips and tightened his thighs around Bull, making a petulant face at his denied request.

            “Fine. Don’t tell me then. I’m sure I’ll just- ”

            Bull grabbed at Dorian’s chin harshly, stopping him from speaking. He pulled the mage’s face up to meet his gaze.

            “I’m in charge now, Dorian. Got that?” Bull asked in that low rumble of a voice that passed right through Dorian. It terrified him as much as it excited him. He nodded as well as he could with Bull’s grip on his face.

            “Good. Now listen. The safe word’s ‘katoh’ all right? I know that’s more Qunlat but it means ‘stop’.”

            Dorian narrowed his eyes at him, not missing the fact that Bull explained one word but not the one he’d asked for.

            “Don’t hesitate to use that word. Not gonna hurt my feelings or anything. And even if you do, rather you do that then for me to hurt you. Understand?”

            “Yes, all right.” Dorian answered as Bull released his chin to spread his hands across Dorian’s chest; they could easily span the width of it.

            “I’m serious, Dorian.” Bull said as he leaned forward, putting more of his weight on him, letting the leather of his waist belt rub against the base of Dorian’s cock. Dorian bit his lip at that, and took a deep breath before looking Bull in the eye.

            “The safe word is ‘katoh’. I understand.” And because he was wicked, he turned his head to the side to show the earring to Bull and looked back at him with a devious smile. “Now let me fuck The Iron Bull.”

            Bull dropped to his elbows then, slipping one hand behind Dorian’s head. He tugged at his hair, pulling his head up to expose throat. Dorian gasped at the roughness, and tried to wrap his arms around Bull only to feel the strain of ropes.

            Bull bit at his throat, rough and staggered down to his collarbone. He bit there too, licking at the hollow and then back up to his chin. Leaning on the arm that pulled at Dorian’s hair, he ran his free hand down Dorian’s side. The mage’s skin was soft and hairless, except for a small patch on his chest and between his legs.

            Bull moved back to Dorian’s lips, running his thumb across his bottom lip as he tugged at hair again with the other hand.

            “Ah! Ah, Bull you absolute brute… don’t stop, though.”

            “Wasn’t going to.”

            He kissed Dorian, biting at his lower lip until it was love-bruised and wet. He ran his thumb across it again, and then pushed it inside, running it across his tongue. Dorian sucked on it eagerly to show his enthusiasm. Bull removed it then, replacing it with his index and middle finger. Dorian hummed happily at that, flicking his tongue up between them, spreading them to widen. Bull forced them in deeper, laughing when he encountered no resistance nor protest.

            “I don’t know why I didn’t expect that.” Bull said, removing them for just an instant to let Dorian reply.

            “No one in the Imperium has a gag reflex, Bull. It’d be impossible. Think about it for a second.”

            Bull chuckled as he reinserted the fingers, this time kissing Dorian around them, flicking his tongue in as well. It was messy and a little ridiculous and Dorian loved it. He moaned as Bull forced his jaw open, putting the fingers in as deep as they’d go.

            Then he pulled them away, replacing them with a kiss to distract Dorian from where they were going. Dorian gasped into Bull’s mouth as the wet fingers were trailed across his nipples, the wetness making them sensitive to the cold, perking them within seconds. Bull ran the tip of his finger over one lightly; pleased to feel Dorian’s legs tighten around him.

            Bull toyed with them for a bit, as he bit and kissed at Dorian’s neck. When Dorian was panting well and proper he finally released his grip on his hair and positioned himself a bit lower. He let one hand push down on Dorian’s chest, fingers splayed, as he gripped one of his thighs with the other, forcing his leg further open and up. Dorian arched beautifully with the motion.

            “Hey, have I ever told you how fucking gorgeous you are?”

            Dorian looked at him, a mix of amusement and embarrassment on his face.

            “Not explicitly, no.”

            “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

            Bull leaned down and flicked his tongue over a nipple, still gripping Dorian’s thigh. Dorian moaned at that, and he looked down to watch him bite and suck at each in turn. They were sensitive and he felt his cock throb with the action.

            Bull did not miss the fact, and moved to grab Dorian’s other thigh. Bull stood up on his knees now, gripping Dorian’s thighs just under his knees. He pushed them open and up, watching as Dorian’s cock twitched from neglect. Bull felt his own erection nudging up into his pants, but ignored it in favor of Dorian’s.

            Bull gave him a devious look before slipping down to his elbows in front of his cock. He threw the mage’s legs over his horns and slid both hands under Dorian’s ass. As he pushed forward, Dorian’s legs went back as well, exposing him wonderfully.

            “Maker, that is the strangest thing.” Dorian panted out, feeling Bull’s rough horns under his thighs.

            “Convenient, yeah.” Bull purred into Dorian’s thigh as he licked and bit into the soft flesh. Dorian squirmed under the sensation and tentatively bucked his hips. Bull placed a firm hand on his hip and gave him a warning glare. Dorian bit his lip and threw his head back in tantrum but kept himself still.

            “So fussy. You want me to suck you off or not?”

            Dorian’s head shot back up, watching as Bull’s breath ghosted over the tip of his cock. Dorian had been sure he was simply there to begin opening him up. He’d always been on the other end of it, others rarely taking the time for him. He hadn’t expected it from Bull.

            Dorian nodded wordlessly as Bull squeezed his ass before shifting his grip on to his hips.

            “Be good. No bucking or fussing or I stop.”

            Dorian nodded once and then Bull was on him, licking a thick stripe from the base of Dorian’s cock to the tip. Dorian groaned and fought the urge to thrust, feeling his leg spasm at the denial. He pulled at the ropes wildly, the roping holding expertly against his efforts.

Bull licked again, slowly from base to tip and Dorian began to feel need coiling within him. He was obedient though, and turned his head to bite into his own arm for relief.

            Bull watched Dorian with pleasure, loving that every little motion affected him so openly. He had been waiting to see Dorian undone, and he savored it as he continued to lick slowly. He swirled his tongue along the tip, stopping to push the pad of his tongue against the sensitive spot below the head. His skin tasted clean and Bull licked up the bit of pre-cum that had begun to leak out. Dorian whined at that, and Bull felt his own cock twitch.

            “You can be loud. I like loud.”

            Dorian stopped biting his arm then, and gasped when Bull finally took the tip of his cock into his mouth, letting out a proper moan. Bull didn’t sink any further on it, instead teasing the mage more, swirling his tongue across the slit as he dug nails into Dorian’s hips and ass.

            “Fasta vass!” Dorian hissed, pulling the ropes hard. Bull chuckled around his cock, enjoying the sight above him. Then without the slightest warning, he took the entire length of Dorian’s cock into his mouth down to the base. Dorian let out one long groan that died down into murmured pants. Bull didn’t let up, and instead bobbed his head so that Dorian’s cock dragged against the back of his throat.

            Bull looked up, meeting Dorian’s gaze as he pulled up sucking up the shaft until he only had the tip between his lips. Dorian watched, slightly unhinged as Bull slipped down again, this time keeping a slow but regular pace. A muffled yell escaped Dorian’s lips even as he bit down on them.

            After another minute or so, Bull pulled off completely, letting Dorian’s cock slap wetly against his stomach. Dorian whined loudly, looking down at Bull angrily.

            “I was being good!”

            “Yeah, that’s why you’re getting this now.”

            Bull sat back up for a moment to pull a small bottle out of the pouch the necklace had come from. Dorian recognized it immediately and clenched in anticipation.

            “Another little present for you, Kadan.”

            Bull unstopped the bottle of oil, carefully pouring enough to coat two fingers. Dorian watched with rapt attention.

            “You want me to stretch you nice and wide so I can fuck you?”

            “Fuck yes, Bull.”

            Bull resumed his place, taking Dorian’s cock back into his mouth as he began to swirl a finger around Dorian’s entrance. Bull pushed in, finding little resistance with the oil. Dorian gasped loudly as it slid in and threw his head to the side, his hair fallen from its usual styled shape into a sex-mussed mess.

            It took Bull no time at all to work in a second finger, and Dorian was still not allowed to thrust into the motion. He felt pleasure build and fall in waves, maddeningly. He tried a new tactic.

            “Bull, please.”

            Bull grinned at that, cock still in his mouth, and still lazily fucking him open with two fingers. He stopped sucking, instead taking it up in his free hand.

            “Please what, Kadan?”    

            “Please just let me thrust into it. Let me fuck myself on your fingers. Please Bull, just fuck me.”

            “Look at that, put a couple fingers up your ass and suddenly the sass is replaced with polite requests.” Bull said, keeping his pace even and smooth.

            Dorian scowled at that, hoping that punishment might grant him more of what he wanted if begging didn’t. He pulled down on one of Bull’s horns with his leg, pulling Bull’s face sideways into his thigh. Bull’s expression darkened then, and Dorian felt a wave of excitement wash over him.

            “All right. Now this is happening.”

            Bull pulled his fingers free of Dorian, leaving him feeling empty and needy. Dorian groaned at the loss, until he saw Bull sit back up to begin undoing the strap of his harness. Fire caught in Dorian when Bull’s hands moved down to his waist belt, and he bucked into the air wantonly, hoping to goad Bull further.

            Bull pulled his pants down slowly, making sure Dorian saw as he freed his cock from the fabric it pulled against.

            “Oh...” Dorian said softly at the sight of Bull’s fully erect cock in front of him. He’d known it would be big, but seeing it all at once like that sent a shutter through him.

            Bull crept back into place, naked now except for his necklace and eye patch. He sat back on his knees, pulling Dorian’s ass flush against them. Bull held his own cock in one hand, stroking it slowly without touching Dorian. Dorian enjoyed it for a moment before he realized this was the punishment.

            “Bull touch me.”

            “Nah.”

            “Bull please you can’t just- ”

            Bull dragged the head of his cock across Dorian’s thigh, watching as Dorian’s eyes grew wide before he threw his head back yet again, dissolving into soft curses. Bull laughed again as he dragged it over the other thigh as well.

            “You’re awful and I hate you.”

            “What was that word you called me earlier? Amatus? Doesn’t it mean-”

            Dorian groaned loudly, drowning out the last of the sentence. Bull laughed, but sank back down to his earlier position and oiled his fingers again. Soon he was back to his previous pace, and scissored Dorian open with two before adding a third soon after. Dorian made no move to thrust into it.

            But Bull was at his limit too, and the sight of Dorian’s slicked hole made Bull’s cock throb with want. Bull pulled his fingers back slowly, and coated his cock with the residue to assure Dorian of his intent. Still, Dorian looked at him questioningly as Bull leaned up to untie his wrists from the headboard.

            “Don’t worry, just repositioning.”

            “Is that really necessary?”

            “Yeah it is. This is your first time with The Bull, and first timers have to ride.”

            Dorian looked at him like he was crazed, but Bull’s slicked cock rubbing against his stomach did wonders to amend Dorian to the change. Dorian did not protest as Bull retied his arms behind his back into a lower position. Bull laid back on the bed then, propped up by the headboard and Dorian faced him, arms now securely tied behind his back.

            Dorian shuffled on his knees and swept his legs around Bull with his help. Dorian stayed on his knees standing upright, unsure of what he was allowed. Bull gave an approving growl at that, and leaned in to kiss him as he pulled him down so that their cocks were flush to each other. Dorian moaned openly, and Bull took both of them in hand and stroked lazily until Dorian was enough of a mess to beg again.

            “Bull…”

            “Call me the other word.”

            Dorian looked properly affronted at that, and then looked nearly shy before answering.

            “Amatus… please. I want your cock in me, Amatus.”

            Bull was pleased with the change that came over Dorian at that, the haughtiness dissolved away, leaving a more needy and raw Dorian in its place. He pushed him a step further, pushing Dorian up and rubbed the tip of his cock teasingly along the cleft of Dorian’s ass.

            “Really? How bad do you want it, Kadan?”

            Dorian whined, his eyes lidded and mouth open slightly. He was panting, and buried his face in the crook of Bull’s neck as he answered.

            “Badly. Very badly.” he paused a moment in hesitation before continuing, “I’ve wanted it for some time now.”

            “Yeah? Wanna know something, Kadan?” Bull asked, working his fingers back into Dorian’s ass as he spoke. Dorian bit into his collarbone.

            “Yes?”

            “Haven’t fucked anyone since I started leaving you things.”

            Dorian pulled back and looked at him incredulously. It had been months! His brow furrowed, searching Bull’s face for some reasoning, to see the other foot fall. Bull only kissed him again and slipped another finger in.

            “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”

            “Got sentimental I guess? I dunno. I just wanted you. Why fuck anyone else if I couldn’t have my Kadan?”

            “But that’s, that’s not at all… Bull tell me what the word means this instant!”

            Bull slipped his fingers out and took his cock in his hand. He slicked it once more, and began to guide it into Dorian. The tip passed in with some effort, the size of it feeling so much more than it looked, and it looked massive. The discomfort and concentration of the act leaving Dorian’s mind temporarily blank.

            Dorian moaned as he felt himself stretched, biting his lip as he began to lower himself on to it as Bull gripped his hips to pull him down. Slowly, he managed to work down onto it, relishing in the fullness. It was so much more than he expected.

            Bull leaned up to kiss him again, and Dorian opened his mouth eagerly, letting Bull enter him in every way he could.

            “Kadan,” Bull said as he pulled back from the kiss to look into Dorian’s eyes, “it means ‘my heart.’ ”

            Dorian slammed his lips back into Bull’s, kissing him savagely as he forced the rest of Bull’s cock into him down to the base. Bull groaned at that, which only frenzied Dorian further.

            “I can’t even believe… ah! Bull you ridiculous…Just yes, holy shit yes. Amatus!”

Bull leaned back then, taking in the sight. Without his hands to brace himself, Dorian’s whole chest was forced forward, cock bouncing with each thrust.

            Bull reached up with both hands after Dorian found his rhythm, grabbing at his torso to run a thumb over each nipple. Dorian trilled at that.

            “Oh fuck, yes. Yes, Bull. It’s so fucking good. It’s so… big.”

            “Yeah?” Bull was starting to lose himself in Dorian, the mage splayed on him, slamming down on his length with such ease. He’d never had a human partner take to it so easily. He wondered idly if it wasn’t hurting Dorian, but the look on his face was nothing but pleasure. He felt the strangest sense of pride swell in his chest and allowed himself a few counter thrusts.

            “Oh fuck! Yes Bull, more of that. Fuck me, Bull. Void, fuck me raw.”

            “Fuck yes I will,” Bull growled as he pulled Dorian down on to him in time with his thrusts. Dorian was yelling now, sweet ahhs and ohhs that Bull drank up.

            “You look so fucking good, Dorian. Like you were made to take my cock.”

            Dorian laughed that, a distracted, pleased laugh that was followed immediately by a moan. Bull leaned back in to lick up Dorian’s neck and finished it in a bite. He reached down, taking Dorian’s cock in his hand and stroked him in time to their thrusts as they grew more frantic.

            “Maker, Bull I’ve never, ah! I’ve never… This is… I don’t…”

            Bull shushed him with more kisses before leaning into whisper into Dorian’s ear.

            “Don’t worry about that shit right now. Just fuck yourself silly and come for me. Can you come for me Dorian?”

            Dorian nodded wordlessly and slammed himself hard onto Bull’s cock, feeling the tip of it grazing the sweet spot inside him perfectly. Bull groaned again, grabbing Dorian’s hip with one hand and the mage’s cock in the other. He fucked him hard, and Dorian yell hoarsely as he finally came, spilling himself over Bull’s hand and on to his chest.

            Bull was close behind, seeing Dorian flushed with pleasure and still slamming into him even as he came set Bull over the edge. He came in Dorian, swearing sweetly into Dorian’s ear as he did. Dorian hummed proudly, falling forward against Bull’s chest as the two of them rode out their orgasms pressed tightly together.

            A few moments passed before either of them moved, the only sound their labored breathing as they came down from their pleasure. Dorian kissed softly at Bull’s neck as his head cleared. Bull began to untie his wrists a moment later.

            “You hurting anywhere? Nothing ripped or rubbed raw?”

            “I’m fine, Bull. More than fine. I’m… Void, I’m so happy. Can I say that? Is that strange?”

            The rope dropped softly to the ground as Bull set it aside, pulling Dorian’s wrists forward. He took each in hand in turn, slowly massaging out any pains. Dorian smiled fondly at the simple action.

            “You can say whatever you like, Dorian. I’m glad you’re happy.” Bull held up both of the mage’s wrists and kissed them softly before finally giving them back. Dorian wrapped them around Bull’s neck and pulled him into a hug. Bull wrapped his arms around him as well, Dorian’s earring dangling just a few inches from his nose.

            “Can I really? I’ve never had the luxury to do this before. Usually by now I’d be scrambling for the door. Don’t leave tonight, stay with me. There, I’ve said it.”

            Bull ran his hands along Dorian’s back, petting him absently as Dorian buried his face into his neck again.

            “Wasn’t planning on it, Kadan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that read/liked/commented/etc! Also thank you to the Adoribull Minibang mods/artists/other writers for their time and quality work! 
> 
> This was my first complete fic over like... 5K words lmao. I put like days of work into this fic and edited it like... 8 or 9 times. I learned so much writing it and I can like SEE the improvement from chapter 1 to 10. Suffice to say it means a lot to me. :)


End file.
